


Much Ado About Something

by eternalsunshine13, Skowronek



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Space, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, Humor, Letters, Loose You've Got Mail AU, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Social Media, Tumblr, bigbangonice2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-18 15:12:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13684239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalsunshine13/pseuds/eternalsunshine13, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skowronek/pseuds/Skowronek
Summary: By day, Victor Nikiforov is the head of European operations for LearX, a company on the forefront of private space travel. By night, he is makka-baby on Tumblr, a prominent figure in the small but passionate poodle fandom.By day, Yuuri Katsuki runs F.O.O.L., a subsidiary of Katsuki Enterprises, whose stated goal is to bring LearX down one lawsuit after another. By night, he’s oodlesofpoodles, an active member of the poodle fandom and possibly makka-baby’s biggest fan.By day, they duke it out in court. By night, they become friends—and maybe something more—as they fall for each other one Tumblr message at a time.Or: a romantic comedy starring two idiots in love, the Katsuki family, the mothers Nikiforov, the husbands Chulanont-Giacometti, two doggos, six hamsters, one Yurio, and many, many schemes to get our favorite lovebirds together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [mega-truong](http://mega-truong.tumblr.com) is our amazing artist! Check out the piece she made for this fic in Chapter 5!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in the near future with advanced space travel.

To Whom it May Concern:

When we first heard Katsuki Enterprises intended to open a branch office in Gdynia, we could not fathom why, as K.E. primarily conducts its business in Asia and North America with a limited presence in the E.U. And when we learned that K.E.’s European operations intended to focus on Aviation and Space Travel regulation, we found ourselves even more perplexed, as K.E. is firmly situated within the hospitality industry and has no investments in any space or aviation companies that we are aware of.

Now, we have learned that K.E.’s sole intention is to be a thorn in the side of LearX, taking advantage of a minor E.U. law on passenger compensation to spam us with nuisance lawsuits. You are of course welcome to try but we will not sit idly by and let a gnat take bites out of us no matter how insignificant. We are prepared to employ the full force of our legal team to squash your efforts.

This letter is but a simple courtesy cease-and-desist: we are giving K.E. the opportunity to pull out now before it gets ugly. We hope K.E. will be smart and stick to running hotels and resorts. Leave Space for the experts. This serves as your only warning.

 

Best,

Victor Nikiforov

Executive Vice President

LearX European Division

\--

_Space, the final frontier. Let LearX take you into the future._

*

“Well?” Victor asked. “What do you think?”

Phichit shrugged, eyes skimming the text. “Seems fine.”

“That’s it?”

“Do you really want my honest opinion?” Phichit said, raising an eyebrow.

“Why else do I pay a small fortune for your consulting services if I didn’t want your consultation?” Victor said, reaching for a heavy crystal decanter atop the liquor cabinet by his desk. It was dark out and he was in a Mood.

Phichit side-eyed him. “Does this really call for a drink?”

“Yes.” Victor poured two and handed one to him.

“Does it call for the Laphroaig Islay Single Malt?”

“Of course,” Victor said airily, lifting his glass up in a mock toast.

Phichit muttered something about _rich people these days_ before taking a sip.

“What’s that now?” It was Victor’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Phichit said, returning to the letter. “Why didn’t you just have one of the other lawyers draft this?”

“I didn’t think any of their attempts were aggressive enough. And besides, a good General knows no task is beneath him.”

“Right,” Phichit said, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, I saw that!” Victor didn’t care if he sounded petulant. What was the point of being boss if he couldn’t be petulant at least five percent of the time?

“ _T_ _o Whom it May Concern_?” Phichit asked. “You know the Katsuki’s are dispatching their son Yuuri to head up this little endeavor. You can just address it to him.”

“Of course _I_ know that, but I don’t want _him_ to know I know that. I don’t want him to think I actually give a damn,” Victor said, shaking his head. Phichit was smart and Victor had come to depend upon him in the last couple of years but on occasion, Victor found it frustrating that they didn’t always share the same views on the importance of a petty but well-aimed insult.

“And isn’t their subsidiary called F.O.O.L.?” Phichit asked. “Fierce Opponents of LearX or something like that?”

“I refuse to acknowledge such a ridiculous name,” Victor sniffed before taking another sip of Scotch. “And can you _believe_ that they’re moving to Gdynia? And across the street? The nerve.”

“It _is_ a little odd,” Phichit agreed. “But do you think sending a note like this is really the way to go?”

“They’re the ones making it personal by moving here,” Victor said. “And with the sole intention of spamming us with lawsuits.”

Phichit shrugged. “Fine, whatever. I’d address it to Yuuri though.”

“I suppose.” Victor sighed, then made the change. “I don’t know why you’ve decided to become a thorn in my side, but I’ll make sure you regret it, Yuuri Katsuki.”

“Do you always have to be so dramatic?” Phichit asked.

“And this is coming from the man who proposed to his husband with an elaborate Rube Goldberg machine involving all five of his hamsters?” Victor said, leaning back.

“That,” Phichit said, chin lifting, “was romantic. And correction—there were six hamsters. Everyone always forgets about Nessie.”

Victor pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, alright, it’s late. Go home to your loving husband and six hamsters.”

“Night, Victor,” Phichit said, grinning. “Don’t stay too late.”

“I won’t. I have to go pick up Makkachin from the groomers soon.” After Phichit left, Victor stood to look out at the skyscraper next to their offices and at the water beyond, finishing his drink. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, filling the sky with pink and purple. It was a gorgeous sight, and as Victor turned to go, he couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of Phichit.

He wouldn’t mind also spending such a beautiful night home with a loving husband and six dogs.

* 

Yuuri put his laptop precariously on a box he hadn’t unpacked yet. Thankfully, his new flat came fully-furnished, but try as he might, Yuuri couldn’t find any room left on his brand new desk, it was so cluttered.

Yuuri had to hold on to his hot coffee mug since there was no room to put it anywhere, and he didn’t want to place the drink on the floor. He’d slept in his new bed, but without bed sheets; all around him scattered away were his old belongings shipped from Japan and his new acquisitions hastily bought in local shops. Yuuri had neither time nor will to unpack – he still felt the fatigued, draining afterimage of jet-lag settling in his bones, making time run quicker than it should.

And he had to go to work in an hour.

“It’s an easy commute”, he said to his sister a few moments later, when her blurred face froze, the holograph shaky, glitchy, just like in the old movies they used to watch as kids. It was afternoon in Hasetsu. Mari already looked a bit tired. Yuuri recalled she had been complaining about a meeting with Katsuki Enterprises’ partners.

“And the flat? How is it?”

Yuuri let his eyes wander. He was sitting in his new fitted kitchen, amongst unpacked boxes and half-unpacked ones. There was only one conspicuous thing about his flat and that was what he told Mari.

“It’s messy”, he admitted, thinking it was, perhaps, an understatement. “But the bedroom overlooks a park.”

It wasn’t as nice a view as they had in Hasetsu, where all they needed was to look through the window to find themselves face to wave with the ocean. Yuuri knew there was a sea here, too, much colder and much more foreign. He hadn’t seen it yet.

“It’s better than work,” Yuuri said.

F.O.O.L.’s new quarters were located on the tenth floor of a newly-built skyscraper in an area surrounded by nothing but the Baltic sea and a spaceship yard, all blueish glass and sheer edges towering above the industrial neighbourhood. Yuuri heard it used to be a traditional sea dock with a shipyard and the area converted into a space valley only in the last years. On his way to work, Yuuri would pass a few old cranes waiting for ships that would never go in dock. From his desk, he could make out what happened in the building next to his own,the only other skyscraper, a lower one by a few storeys – which didn’t mean that a lot happened there. The previous day Yuuri spent a boring ten minutes alternating between watching the office workers come and go and the high-rise window cleaner hang on thin ropes like a spider.

He could also spy on LearX if he was brave enough.

But Yuuri was not brave – he was foolish, and he turned away from his window the moment he spotted a familiar silver-haired figure visible through the floor to ceiling window from the skyscraper next to F.O.O.L.’s. Yuuri let his mouth twist into a grimace. Nikiforov did not change at all in the time that passed since Yuuri last saw him, back when he’d been into his third semester at the same law school of which Nikiforov was now the star alumnus. Despite the distance and two sheer walls of glass separating them, Yuuri could imagine the same smirk on his face that Nikiforov had often sported in their college days.

The baskets that followed a few hours later still felt like a middle finger aimed at Yuuri’s face.

“How is it bad?” Mari asked now. She looked concerned – or at least, as much concerned as she could look. Yuuri would say it was her job that made her so tough, but he remembered Mari being twelve and already taking her life in stride and dragging Yuuri along by his hand while he second-guessed every step. Some things never changed.

“It’s... different”, Yuuri said carefully. It had been two days. He couldn’t even say good morning in Polish because the unfamiliar consonants twisted his tongue in the strangest ways - and his German was no better. Maybe he should have found a flat somewhere else, in a country whose language he could actually speak. Thank God that at least the company’s official language was English. Yuuri sighed. One of the baskets stood amid the mess on the floor near the fitted wardrobe. “And he sent a welcome basket.”

Mari didn’t have to ask who was _he._

“A welcome basket,” she repeated, her voice flat, like only her voice could be. “With poison?”

“With oranges,” Yuuri answered. “And with doughnuts. Maybe the poison’s in the filling.”

“No one sane drugs doughnuts. It’s a crime against humanity. Yuuri, it doesn’t seem so bad,” Mari observed. “I mean, it _could_ have been poison.”

Yuuri straightened, stealing a glance at the basket in question. The doughnuts were long gone – if Yuuri dies, he dies of food poisoning. He was sure that if anyone was malicious enough to poison pastries, it was Victor Nikiforov.

“Not so bad?” he parroted back, taking a sip of coffee for courage and wishing, desperately, that it was sake instead. “Mari. Can you imagine mom sending such a sloppy basket to anyone?”

Yuuri knew he struck a chord. Hiroko Katsuki was nothing if not diligent and welcoming. Her baskets were always to die for, complete with mini katsudons and freshly cut flowers for decoration and Katsuki Enterprise’s tasteful logo woven into the ribbons. Victor Nikiforov’s baskets included two items, and Yuuri was fairly sure one of the interns, whose name he still hadn’t learnt, complained about greyish mould growing on his orange.

“He did it on purpose,” Yuuri got wound up, “he _knew_ it, he _knew it bloody well_ that I wouldn’t mistake this insult for a kindness.”

Mari made a thoughtful face.

“It does seem a bit passive-aggressive”, she admitted. “But maybe that’s how they do things in there? You know mom’s baskets are so perfect that we set rather high standards.”

Yuuri didn’t want to argue with Mari through a shaky, unreliable holograph call, but he thought that sending mould was not an acceptable way to welcome people anywhere, in any part of the world.

“Well”, he just said, making sure his tone of voice was not as outraged as he felt, “so go and ask mom if she ever sent a basket like this one.”

They both knew the answer: Hiroko would never let herself be as sloppy. Even her pettiness would be a culinary work of art. Yuuri grinned, triumphant, knowing that he was right.

The holograph Mari took a long drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke straight ahead so that it fogged Yuuri’s view.

“Good,” she just said. Mari had never been one for many words. “You were going to make his life hell anyway, right? So no time like the present. Well, I’d better be off to help dad with this taxes thing. We’ll call later when you’re settled in, okay?”

_What taxes thing,_ Yuuri wanted to ask, terrified that it took only two days for him to become so out of touch with life in Hasetsu. But Mari crushed her cigarette in an ashtray - a gesture clear to Yuuri, though he couldn’t see the ashtray in question on the holograph - and soon disconnected with a blasé, easy goodbye.

“Bye, little brother.”

Oh well.

Yuuri hugged Nikchan goodbye, downed his cold coffee and hastily put the mug in the dishwasher before dashing out of the flat and into the autumnal chill of the old street he lived on. He’d rented the flat because of its proximity to the space shuttle subway, but even after the two nights he’d spent in it, Yuuri concurrently fell in love with the quaint historical area and developed an aversion for brash tourists flocking to and from nearby pubs and bars. Bremen was a picturesque little heaven - if you didn’t count the noise in its more touristy parts.

Yuuri adjusted his blue scarf – the cool of the air had begun to sink into his bones – and hurried to the subway, sliding on the wet orange leaves that had fallen to the ground overnight.

The subway was packed and smelled faintly of disinfectant. Yuuri squirmed in his seat, trying to make himself as compact as possible. He took out his phone. It was going to be a long day, and if Yuuri was going to make it through it, he needed encouragement.

Puppies made an amazing encouragement. It took the lagged Tumblr app two subway stops to fully load, but when it did, Yuuri was blessed with the sight of the second most adorable poodle he’d seen, its cuteness surpassed only by Yuuri’s own Nikchan.

That could mean only one thing: @makka-baby had updated their Tumblr.

Yuuri lived for the updates – the poodle was just adorable, with paws so cute they probably left rainbow paw prints when it trotted after its owner.

_You live only once,_ Yuuri thought, _I need this today,_ as he clicked on the profile, waited for ages for the app to load, and liked twenty-three pictures of the poodle in a row.

Ten minutes later, he missed his stop, too busy reblogging a picture of Makka emerging from water, all happy and carefree.

_100000/10 would wrap in a towel and hug,_ Yuuri wrote. He didn’t get out of the space shuttle in time. 

__

 

__


	2. Chapter 2

Today was the day.

Victor still couldn’t believe Katsuki Enterprises was really opening an office here in Gdynia across the street from LearX’s European headquarters. He’d picked Gdynia for a few reasons.

Despite the fact you could get from Paris to, say, Amsterdam, in half an hour nowadays when it used to take six hours by car at one point (at least according to Grandpa Jan), companies still had a tendency of situating their offices in the same old places: London, Paris, Frankfurt, et cetera. Part of it was continuity, part of it was an old-fashioned mentality, and part of it was just ignorance.

Which was just as well. Gdynia was a hidden gem in a lot of ways. Victor spent countless evenings walking down its streets, exploring the neat greyness of modernist architecture, and taking comfort in its raw, symmetric beauty that looked straight into the blurred blue horizon of the Baltic, stretching in front of the city to the rhythm of waves. But more than that, it was his Mamusia’s childhood home and where he spent idyllic summers as a child.

Sure, he had to make the commute to the big capitals for meetings every so often, but it was so worth it to wake up to the view of the sunlight dancing on the Baltic from his apartment on the thirty-sixth floor of Space Towers 1.

Besides, the isolation suited him. Victor had a reputation for being the life of the party—the charming, gorgeous bachelor everyone wanted to be, or be _with_. And while he was the consummate performer and kept up with his image, the truth was he’d pick a quiet night at home with Makkachin over a noisy bar or fancy restaurant or penthouse party, every single time.

Now, that beautiful isolation was coming to an end. And it was all because of Yuuri Katsuki, who had for some inexplicable reason decided to dedicate his time to destroying Victor.

He sighed, glancing out at the sun and sea, and rolled away from the windows, stubbornly burying his head in his pillow. Pulling out his phone, he ignored the fifty or so emails awaiting him and opened Tumblr.

Victor needed a distraction, so he pulled Makka closer, absently scratching behind her ear, and opened his inbox to respond to a few asks before work.

 

_Anonymous asked:_

_Your last recipe looked interesting but where do you get things like beef heart, lungs, kidneys, and liver??? And why…?_

 

Do you have a local butcher shop by any chance? You can always call them to find out. That’s where I get mine from, and where I get raw meaty bones for Makka! You can take a poke around online for more information, but basically, organ meat is more nutritionally dense compared to other cuts of muscle meat, with a lot more of vitamins and minerals. I don’t feed Makka a fully raw diet but the few times per week I do, I try to include as many different organs as possible!

 

Even if you don’t feed raw, you can look for high quality dog food that embraces a “whole-prey” philosophy and includes organ meat and ground up bones in its ingredients. For my list of recommended dog food, particularly for poodles, click here.

—

  _Anonymous asked:_

_How old is Makka?_

 

How dare you. Makka is an ageless goddess who will outlive us all.

—

_Sleep-furiously asked:_

_Favorite kind of poodle?_

 

Well Makka is a Standard but all poodles are the best poodles :)

—

_Anonymous asked:_

_You seem to travel a lot. Do you take Makka with you?_

 

Yeah, I do travel a lot for work unfortunately, and most of the time, Makka can’t come with me :(

—

_Eternalsunshine13 asked:_

_Do you like cats?_

 

I tolerate them. My younger brother has a cat. I don’t know where we went wrong with him.

—

And then there was this:

_Anonymous asked:_

_Is it weird that I feel like I know you? I’m one of the lurkers here and your tumblr always brightens my day. I came for the pictures of your dog and your awesome poodle training tips and gourmet dog food recipes but I stayed because of your personality. You’re just so funny and kind and welcoming, and even though we’ve never talked, you’re kind of my tumblr crush? Every single post makes me smile and I hope this note gives you even just a fraction of the joy you’ve given me. (I hope this doesn’t creep you out—I promise I’m not a crazy stalker!) <3 _

 

!!!

Oh my gosh, anon. I’m sorry I didn’t respond sooner to this. Tumblr notifications suck and I don’t check my inbox often, so I literally just saw this. I don’t even know what to say. I mean, thank you. 

Really though, THANK YOU.

Some not so great things are going on for me at work right now and reading your note gave me the biggest smile and made my day.

Also, I don’t actually have that many followers, so if you’ve shown up in my activity feed, I’ve definitely noticed you at some point. Please say hello, I promise I won’t bite :)

—

Victor had never gotten an ask like that before. He reread it, smiling. “What do you think, Makka?” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Am I funny and kind and welcoming?”

She licked his face in response, grinning.

He laughed. “I love you too. Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

As they walked along the water, Victor ignored the notification dings from his phone. Probably just Phichit or Mila trying to get ahold of him. There was a slight chill in the air from the early days of autumn and the breeze from the Baltic. Zipping up his jacket, he called out for Makka, who bounced back toward him.

Back at his apartment, he fed her and took a quick shower before heading out, only to get a call from one of his moms as he was opening the door to go.

“What’s up, Mom? Isn’t it like 2AM in New York?” he said, going back inside.

“We’re in Sydney, remember?” she said. “Mamusia’s here too.”

“Vitya, let’s catch up,” Mamusia said. “It’s been forever!”

“I was home just over a month ago,” he protested but pulled the phone back to wave hello to his parents, then docked it to the hologram projector. Like magic, his mothers “entered” his living room. “Hi Mom, hi Mamusia, how’s it going?” His parents were in talks with the Australian government about placing another launch site outside of Sydney.

“It’s been boring meeting after boring meeting,” Mom said. “Why don’t you join us? You can pick up Yura on the way. Mamusia and I are going to stay a few days after. We haven’t done a family vacation in so long.”

Victor rolled his eyes watching his mom, Alexandra Nikiforov, the CEO and Chairperson of LearX, pout at him. “So you want me to go to New York, pick him up, _then_ go to Australia?”

“What?” Mamusia said, confused. “He’s in Gdansk. Didn’t he tell you?”

“No?” Yura never told him _anything_.

“He has an internship there. At this company with a weird name,” Mamusia said. “Honey, what was it?”

“Fool, I think?” Mama said.

“Are you kidding me.” Victor let out a dramatic sigh. “That’s the company that’s suing us!”

Mama shrugged. “He says he’s learning a lot.”

“Is _everyone_ against me?” Victor muttered, beginning to pace.

“You work too hard, Vitya,” Mamusia said, shaking her head.

“Are you saying that as my mamusia or as my boss?” he asked, pausing to smile. Zofia Nikiforov was head of overseas operations, and Victor technically reported directly to her.

“As your mamusia,” she answered.

“Zosia,” Mom admonished and Mamusia laughed. “Are you saying Vitya’s not working hard enough as his boss?”

“Just kidding!” she said, pulling Mom in for a long kiss.

“Gross,” Victor said. “You’ve been married for over thirty years! Stop it.”

They separated, laughter breathless. “It’s only been thirty years?” Mom said, eyes twinkling. “That means we’re still in the honeymoon phase, Vitya.”

Victor groaned, shaking his head. Makkachin wandered over to see what all the commotion was about.

“Makka!” they cooed in unison as she poked her head into view. “Are you taking good care of Vitya?” Mom said, reaching out a holographic hand to pet her. .

“I’m fine,” he said, scratching behind Makkachin’s ear.

“We worry about you,” Mamusia said. “Don’t work too hard, okay? As your boss, I want you to cut back on your hours at the office.”

“I’m not even at the office now,” he said, glancing at the time. “I should be though. Georgi’s giving a presentation in less than an hour.”

“Listen, Vitya,” Mom said. “As your boss’s boss, I think you should skip the office, go pick up your brother, and join us here.”

“Hey!” Mamusia said. “Are you undercutting my authority?”

“What are you going to do about it?” Mom said slyly.

“Oh my god, get a room you two!” Victor said to their joint laughter.

“But Vitya, it’s a mother’s job to torture her children!” Mamusia said, grinning.

“Then go bother Yura,” he said. “I have actual work to do!”

“We love you,” Mom said, waving goodbye.

“Love you too,” he replied, rolling his eyes before hanging up. “Why are they like this?” he asked Makkachin who only licked his cheek in response. “Ugh, you’re on their side, aren’t you? I feel so betrayed.” She just gave him a big doggy grin. Victor sighed, smiling back at her. “Want to come with me to the office today?” She responded with a sharp bark and they were off.

On the short walk to his office, Victor thought about what his parents said. They’d been exaggerating; he hadn’t been working _too_ hard. If anything, he hadn’t been working hard enough. At twenty-seven years old, he was the youngest person at the Director level with his title. He knew a lot of senior people had been coveting his position for years and were deeply disappointed at being passed over. And even though no one had said anything to his face, he was sure there were whispers and complaints about nepotism.

The Nikiforov family still retained ownership of over fifty percent of LearX and they’d always heavily drawn talent from within the family. He’d been expected to join after he graduated from law school, same was true for Yura, for when he graduated next year.

His great-grandfather, an emigre from Russia and Victor’s namesake, had purchased the ailing LearJets and turned it from nearly irrelevant private aviation company to the leader in private space travel. And since then, the family had been blessed with level-headed members in each subsequent generation. They took the reins and continued to guide the company successfully.

But none had risen through the ranks as quickly as Alexandra Nikiforov and her wife, Zofia, creating waves of resentment at the company. His parents had never put any pressure on him, often urging him to relax more, but Victor felt he had to prove that he could do the job better than anyone else and that his mothers’ faith in him hadn’t been misplaced.

Which is why he wanted to get rid of Yuuri Katsuki and his little enterprise, F.O.O.L., as quickly as possible. Even though the cost of settling the incoming slew of nuisance lawsuits would amount to little more than a rounding error in the company’s annual P&L, it was the embarrassment that Victor wanted to avoid. He didn’t want people to think he couldn’t handle such an insignificant matter. If his colleagues and employees thought that he couldn’t handle the job, they might undercut his authority, creating even larger problems for him. No, he had to get rid of Yuuri Katsuki, and fast.

Victor’s head was aching by the time he reached his office. “Hold all my calls,” he told his assistant, Michele. “And see if Phichit’s in yet.”

“He’s already waiting for you inside,” Michele said. “As is your usual coffee order.”

“Thanks, Mickey.”

“Wow, someone’s late,” Phichit said and Victor cringed as he let Makkachin off her lead. “I was just joking,” he added quickly. “Everyone knows you’re usually here until eight or nine, sometimes later.”

“It’s fine.” Victor waved him off. “Where are we on Katsuki Enterprises?”

“You mean F.O.O.L.?”

He shot Phichit a look.

“Well, they moved in across the street.”

Victor glanced out of his window at the skyscraper beside theirs, the wall of glass that shielded the biggest headache he’d run into thus far. He frowned, then forced himself to focus on Phichit.

“I know, but have they sent anything over?”

“No, but we did,” Phichit said.

“What?” Victor turned sharply toward him, thinking one of the lawyers on his team had gone rogue.

“Well, it’s standard policy for us to send a welcome basket to anyone who moves into either of these buildings, so um, our office manager did that?” Phichit smiled sheepishly.

“ _What?_ ” Victor repeated, jaw dropped in shock.

“Yeah, sorry about that? I only found out this morning. We called the company that we ordered the basket from and they said it’d already been sent.” Phichit shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, I’m sure they got a lot of welcome baskets.” Then he noticed Victor’s expression of horror. “Are you alright? You look a bit pale.”

“Which basket did we send, exactly?” Victor said, pulling back his office chair and logging into his computer. “Show me.”

Makkachin looked up at the brief commotion before returning to her nap, tail wagging lazily.

“You’re kidding,” Victor said, staring at the image before him. “We sent them _that_?”

“Well we send everyone that,” Phichit said. “And again, it’s _standard_.”

Victor slumped back in his office chair. At Columbia, he’d been the editor of the law review, the top of his class, the one voted most likely to take over the world. His first year at LearX, he streamlined the engineering process and cut costs while increasing revenue. He was a perfectionist through and through; he’d never experienced setbacks or missteps. But now, staring at the pitiful welcome basket that Yuuri Katsuki had no doubt received with derision, Victor tasted true disappointment.

“Is it too late to send them another basket?” he asked Phichit, who gaped at him.

“You want to send them _another_ basket?”

“Look, I can’t believe we sent them anything at all,” Victor said. “But more importantly, I can’t believe we sent them something so—so—”

“Yes?”

“Pathetic.”

Phichit laughed as he groaned, folding his arms over his desk and resting his forehead against them.

“I hate him,” Victor mumbled. Having an enemy was surprisingly similar to having a lover. He knew it was ridiculous, but he felt a strange and foreign need to impress Yuuri Katsuki, possibly because his strongly-worded letter, sent over two months ago, had been met with silent indifference. “And what’s with that awful name, F.O.O.L.? Who wants to be a fool?”

Phichit placed a consoling hand on Victor’s shoulder. “I know, right? If you’re going to have a name like F.O.O.L., the least you could do is add a couple of hamsters to your logo.”

“What?” Victor said, shocked into laughter.

“Yeah. Look at those two O’s. Perfect hamster wheels, amirite?” Then Phichit clapped him on the back. “Come on. We’ve got a meeting in five minutes.”

In low spirits, Victor got through the day glued to his phone, checking his email more frequently than usual—expecting a note from Katsuki soon—and posting cute pictures of Makkachin to his Tumblr.

He finished the day alone in his office, a Scotch in one hand and Makka beside him, both of them staring out at the darkening sky outside. He couldn’t resist a glance back at the last ask he’d answered that morning, the one from the person who thought he was funny and kind and welcoming. The one who called him their Tumblr crush.

Victor smiled, rereading the note, and sighed. “What do you think, Makka?” he asked. She looked up at him in question, giving him a doggy kiss before returning to look out at the sky and sea, the world beyond their corner office, lives walled in by unbreakable glass.

Maybe it was the lateness of the hour, or maybe he really had been working too much as Mamusia accused, but Victor couldn’t help wondering about the anon who’d sent in that ask, where they were and if they were thinking of him like he was thinking of them.


	3. Chapter 3

Moving in to a new office, Yuuri decided, was an atrocious idea.

He’d picked the place up just to taunt Nikiforov, of course, and it had been a moment of utterly stupid drunken hubris.

“Let’s do it,” he’d said back then, pointing an unsteady finger at a holograph of a skyscraper towering over the blue vastness of the Baltic and the silver, steely space harbor by the sea. There was another tower next to it, although smaller, and Yuuri would be damned if he didn’t get to look down on Nikiforov both from the bottom of his heart and from the windows of his office.

“It’s a dick move, Yuuri,” Chris replied to that. But Chris had a thing for dicks, Yuuri thought, so he wasn’t sure whether his adviser had just voiced his disapproval or gave it a go.

They had bought the whole floor anyway, and Yuuri’d made sure to locate his office desk just right so that he could stare down at Nikiforov.

But moving to the other side of the world implicated more than snide side-eyes that Yuuri was so quick to give. Emails to send, holograph-calls to make, new employees to bond with – and after an unpleasant run with a blond-haired former intern and current junior associate who seemed to think Yuuri held responsibility for the similarity of their given names, Yuuri was relieved to catch the space shuttle that headed west.

Soon he’d be home.

On entering, he waved his Lobster card at the bored holograph guarding the compartment and soon he was seated comfortably in a car that smoothly ran towards Berlin and then further west before making a stop in Bremen. He pulled out his phone and allowed himself a blessed half an hour of doing absolutely nothing productive for a change.

Tumblr was it, then.

Yuuri had no idea how the Tumblr app even worked, mostly because usually it didn’t – at least not when he needed it, like in the space shuttle, when it would shut down on him every time he tried to go to his notifications. They could travel to outer space with no more difficulty than to another town, Yuuri thought, but making this app manageable still seemed impossible. Maybe the company who owned it was too incompetent to even go bankrupt; that would be a first. Yuuri sighed, staring at the unresponsive screen of his phone. The shuttle had managed to reach Szczecin by the time the app finally worked.

_ *makka-baby has followed you* _

Okay, Yuuri thought. Okay.

He had not been creepy at all back in the morning, scrolling down makka-baby’s blog like there was no tomorrow. Yuuri was not a master of Tumblr etiquette, but he knew enough to realize that there was a fine line between being a fan and being a stalker.

Oh, let’s face it: he was a stalker.

He forced himself to read the text makka-baby had sent him.

 

_ Hey are you the anon who sent me that ask? _

_ I just wanted to say hi! In any case, I'm glad you like my blog : ) _

_ And is that your poodle? He's so cute! _

 

“Alright,” Yuuri let out. It wasn’t that bad; at least makka-baby was not downright accusing him of stalking their blog. Yuuri could deal with that. Probably. Right?

 

_ omgg I'm sorry for liking all the posts!!! I swear I'm not a creep ಠ_ಠ _

_ and oops yes hi! :) _

_ that's my toy poodle Nikchan! _

 

He pulled up the gallery – and of course the Tumblr app crashed; by now Yuuri had grown used to that – and chose his Nikchan folder, picking one of his favourite pictures and sending it with to makka-baby. Nikchan had been just three years old when this photograph was taken, but she had the same goofy flicker in her dark eyes.

 

_ I don't think you're a creep! And omg Nikchan is adorable _

 

Who was that person? Ignoring Yuuri’s blatant creepiness oozing from every “like”, focusing on Nikchan’s cuteness instead. Yuuri was the last person to ignore Nikchan’s overall awesomeness, and certainly the last person to complain about people who shared his opinions on Nikchan, too, but it did feel a bit strange.

Still, a person who liked Nikchan.

_ it's just not cool to like all the posts? a bit stalkerish _

_ I swear I didn't mean to! _

 

Yuuri forced himself to tear his gaze away from the app, looking far and below through the window. The shuttle rushed above border between Germany and Poland with a smooth ease that Yuuri’s elevator in the office building definitely didn’t share.

 

_ It's not! I was flattered, honestly. And I just wanted to say hi because I love meeting new people, especially ones who appreciate poodles as much as I do. How old is Nikchan? : ) _

_ omg I'm so glad! I love your blog so much, 10/10 would follow again _

_ She's 7! I got her after high school graduation _

_ we take pics of her in doggo space suits for her every birthday, look! _

 

He cursed under his nose, going through the same process of photo gallery – Tumblr app crash – photo gallery – and finally sending the picture. The one he chose showed the Nikchan from two years ago, in her cute Batman suit; and after a moment of consideration, he sent one of Nikchan in her astronaut outfit as well. Yuuri and she’d had matching costumes that year.

 

_ omg!! _

_ I didn't know they made doggo spacesuits so small, that's amazing! _

_ Has she put that space suit to good use? : ) _

__

_ of course they do! they're kinda expensive but totally worth it _

_ she did travel once but it wasn't a good experience _

_ she loves the suit! but the trip was awful _

_ so we mostly dress her up for Halloween and such _

 

_ oh no! what happened? _

_ Makka's only been once and she was fine, but some dogs don't like zero gravity _

 

Yuuri grimaced. He thought back to the trip to Mars It was what had brought him into these foreign European lands where people talked languages he didn’t understand and ate dishes that didn’t taste like home. Nikchan had been named after the winged goddess Nike, the patron of victory; and the entire trip to Mars was what he could only point out as the definition of failure. He wasn’t sure whether it wasn’t a failure to move to Europe, too. 

And it didn’t feel like something he’d share with a stranger.

 

_ Nikchan was fine too! it's just that space travel leaves a sour taste in my mouth _

_ I'm sorry : ( _

 

_ *makka-baby has sent a photoset* _

_ omg I'm drooling _

 

Yuuri waited for ages for the app to load; the shuttle managed to reach the German capital and stopped now, hovering above the Berlin-Tegel spaceport.

It was a series of pictures of food, one that Yuuri remembered taking back in Hasetsu, during a sunny evening of Mari’s twenty-ninth birthday.

 

_ it's a dish my mom made! she's the best cook I know, it was delicious _

 

The shuttle slid smoothly towards Bremen, new passengers sitting down. Yuuri paid them no mind; soon he’d be in his new, impersonal apartment, making a holograph call to his old, full of memories house.

 

_ Wow, what is it? _

_ it's karaage chicken!,  _ Yuuri wrote back,  _  it tastes even better than it looks. _

_ wow. do you cook too? there are so many amazing pictures of food! now I'm the one stalking you XD _

 

He used to cook, back in Hasetsu, first helping Mom with the simplest tasks, then trying to impress her, even though Yuuri’s own katsudon had never tasted as well as that made by Hiroko. He didn’t even know what the oven was like in his new Bremen apartment, other than that it stood unused and Yuuri relied on the bland street food he bought every morning before stepping onto the shuttle, and on the awful Starbucks coffee for no reason other than the Starbucks in his Gdynia office building, temptingly located on the ground floor just an elevator ride away.

 

_ yeah I do! I'm not as good as mom though, and now I've been busy with work so I didn't have enough time to cook. That's why I mostly reblog doggo pics nowadays lol _

 

Oh, to hell with that. It’s just a stranger, and they’re nice, easy-going enough to brush off Yuuri’s shameful, stalkerish nature.

 

_ and wow is that your revenge? liking all my posts now? _

_ Hahaha yes! _

_ And I know what you mean about being too busy with work. That's why I bring Makkachin to the office with me most days : ) _

_ *makka-baby has sent a photo* _

 

“Work”, Yuuri snarled at his phone. The app didn’t work, obviously. “Work, for god’s sake”.

The app finally loaded thirty seconds later. Yuuri was counting. It took so long – but it was worth it, the picture of Makkachin curled by a black office chair, a plushie toy in her paws.

Yuuri loved those paws, almost as cute as Nikchan’s. Almost.

 

_ Your office is pet friendly? that's so cute!!! _

_ she must be the happiest doggo _

 

_ um, well, I'm kind of in charge? and no one is allergic to dogs so I can get away with it? everyone loves Makkachin though so that helps! _

_ what do you do? do you usually get a sitter or dog walker? it's so hard being away : ( _

_ it's impossible not to like your doggo! so precious <3 _

 

_ I don't really have this problem cause it's a pet friendly office too, but rn I'm moving houses and she's still at my sister's _

_ she usually takes care of Nikchan if I have to travel _

 

It wasn’t a pleasant reminder. Mari was going to come over in a couple of days, bringing Nikchan with her, but for now Yuuri missed the soft padding of the paws on the floor and the curly fur, and the belly scratches that he’d give Nikchan on demand.

 

_ do you have to travel a lot for work? _

 

_ not anymore! just the commute to the office now but it's the space shuttle, quite convenient! that's where I'm now actually _

 

_ omg I know! I live like five minutes away from my office so I don't have a commute but it's so convenient now. My moms are an ocean away but it only takes me a few hours to see them. They still complain about the days they had to *fly* everywhere _

_ *shudders* _

Yuuri snickered. Whoever makka-baby’s moms were, they shared that quality with Yuuri’s parents. His dad mentioned the exact same thing every time he got on the shuttle. Yuuri thought he might recall a plane trip or two back when he was a little kid, but these days had been long gone; plane travel was slowly becoming a fad shared by a few wealthy eccentrics who didn’t mind taking the entire day to fly to the other hemisphere while it was achievable in two hours at most. 

 

_ I hear so many horror stories about planes! I barely remember the time before the shuttle got introduced so it's hard to imagine though ¯\\_ツ_/¯ _

He was going to type something more, maybe a story about his dad – but Yuuri then realized that the shuttle was just about to make a stop in Bremen. He needed to get out.

_ Sorry but I gotta go! just arrived home _

_ ttyl :) _


	4. Chapter 4

The letter Victor had been waiting for finally came, waiting for him on his desk the following Monday.

Dear Mr. Nikiforov,

While I greatly appreciated your message, I feel the need to address a few points of concern that we at F.O.O.L. have regarding on your stance on the matter we have in common.

As anyone with business experience may clarify to you, it is hardly unusual for companies to expand to new markets in order to seek new exciting opportunities. For us at Katsuki Enterprises, there  is nothing more intriguing than exploring the possibilities presented to us by space.

It has been our primary concern since the establishment of the Katsuki Enterprises sixty-two years ago in 1987 to ensure that our customers are well cared for. Their comfort is our priority. Hence the foundation of F.O.O.L., a subsidiary intending to taking care of our customers and handling their grievances so that their endeavours are as uncomplicated as possible. Since no company worth its weight puts financial gain over its customers’ happiness, you can surely imagine that we take great pride and joy in guaranteeing this much needed protection to those customers who wish to seek it.

Having said this, I hope that now you can see the reason for our presence more clearly. F.O.O.L.’s _sole intention,_ as you were kind to put it, is not to make your work more difficult but to ensure our customers’ safety and well-being. You present a more short-sighted approach, which a person with more familiarity with the world of business would surely endeavour to avoid. Threatening us for exploring an opportunity is not something many companies would take kindly; however, we at F.O.O.L. prefer to work in the spirit of kind-heartedness and good-sportsmanship, which is why we are taking this opportunity to send you this small gift as a thank-you for welcoming us so heartfully into the neighbourhood.

Kind regards,

Katsuki Yuuri

Executive Managing Director

F.O.O.L.

Katsuki Enterprises

\--

 _The greatest victory is that which requires no battle._ Sun Tzu

  


The letter had come in an envelope attached to the largest and most extravagant fruit basket Victor had ever seen. The most ridiculous gift basket the _universe_ had ever seen. He tilted the envelope upside down and out slid a business card with Yuuri’s title, address, phone and email.

He picked up the phone. “Mickey? Get me Phichit.”

Victor was fuming by the time the door to his office swung open with a curious Phichit.

“Whoa,” was all he said, stopping to admire the basket that ate up Victor’s entire desk. “Where do you even _get_ a basket like that?” He stepped closer to examine it. “I mean, all the stuff in it’s pretty great but I’m talking about the _basket._ Where do you even find something so gargantuan?” Then he pulled a letter opener from Victor’s pencil cup and stabbed the cellophane, releasing a satisfying crush and hiss. It went beyond chocolates and oranges, “fancy” nuts and dried mango.

It was a masterpiece. Bright, round Honeycrisp apples waxed to perfection, types of bananas and mangoes Victor had never laid eyes on, a tangle of lychee—impossible to find this late in the year—a collection of Bing, Rainer, Tulare cherries. And that was just the fruit. Among the boxes of crackers and rare varieties of nuts and chocolate sat bottles of wine, cognac, and sake—all top shelf of course.

“He had it shipped from _Japan_ ,” Victor said. “This is the biggest _fuck you_ in the history of _fuck you’s."_  

Phichit plucked an apple and moaned appreciatively at the first bite. Then he set it down and began to gather an armful of snacks.

“Sure,” Victor said. “Go ahead. Help yourself.”

He shrugged. “Hey, I’m not going to let any of this go to waste.”

“Okay, but what are we going to do?”

Phichit paused for a moment. “Enjoy the food, drink the liquor? Make a big hamster village out of the basket when we’re done?”

“No, I meant: what are we going to do about _this_ ,” Victor said, flinging the letter onto his desk. “He’s clearly just laughing at us! I mean, just look at that signature line, quoting Sun Tzu. Who does that?”

“Um, you?” Phichit said. “ _Space, the final frontier. Let LearX take you into the future_ , hello?”

“Yes, but that’s our company log line,” he tried to explain.

“Funny, I’ve only ever seen it on your letters and in your emails,” Phichit said, taking another bite out of his apple.

He collapsed onto his office chair, staring glumly at the gift basket before him. “Phichit, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I just pay you a king’s ransom to make fun of me?”

“Pretty much.”

He sighed emphatically. “Thought so.”

*

Victor spent the remainder of the day quietly fuming to himself, composing various responses in his head as he sat through meeting after meeting, discarding all of his ideas as not clever enough.

Back home, he heated up Makkachin’s food and ordered takeout for himself. It was when he took her out for one last walk that he realized he’d been so busy today that he hadn’t even posted a single picture of her. Leading her under a streetlamp, he snapped a quick shot.

“Very noir,” he told her as she posed for him. “All you need is a trench coat and cigarette.” She seemed to nod in agreement. Sometimes it really did seem like she understood every word, like she understood _him_ in a way no one else could.

Victor saw the messages from oodlesofpoodles when he opened the Tumblr app to post Makkachin’s photo. 

 

_ Hey, I hope this doesn’t sound too stalkerish but you haven’t posted all day and it’s a little unusual so I just wanted to make sure you were okay?  _

_ I just realized that sounded a little entitled _

_ I don’t mean you’re obligated to post things! I just mean the radio silence is unlike you and I was worried _

_ Okay this is coming out all wrong, please just ignore me, ha _

 

They had messaged each other a few times since that initial—lovely, albeit awkward—chat, often exchanging pictures of their doggos and funny gifs or posts or just talking about themselves, careful to avoid sharing anything too personal. 

From what Victor had gathered, oodlesofpoodles preferred male pronouns, was in his twenties, and seemed to live in Europe based on timezone estimates but wasn’t necessarily European, just like Victor himself. 

 

_ Omg, I’m so sorry I worried you! I’m about to post a picture of Makka rn. _

_ And you’re totally right, I do normally post throughout the day. Time just got away from me today. _

 

oodlesofpoodles’s response was almost immediate.

 

_ Hey! _

_ I’m glad you’re okay. And omg I just saw your post. Makka looks adorable, almost like a detective! _

 

Victor smiled, scratching Makkachin’s neck in bed. “You’d be a great detective, wouldn’t you, Makka? You’d smell a rat from a mile away, literally.” She didn’t nod or grin this time, shooting him a sleepy look instead. “Okay, okay.” He turned off the lights and heard a contented sigh. 

 

_ That’s what I was thinking too! Very noir. _

 

_ All she needs is a pipe and trench coat. _

 

_ Yes! Burberry, Fall collection. _

 

_ Don’t you mean Furberry? ;)  _

 

Victor chuckled softly, rolling his eyes. Before he had a chance to respond, he got another message.

 

_ Oh god, ignore me. oodlesofpoodles.exe has been corrupted by a bad pun virus. _

_ LOL. Okay, first of all, if you’re going to make a bad pun, you’ve got to commit to it! _

_ And that wasn’t a bad pun.  _

_ Well, it was, but it was an excellent one. _

 

_ It was an excellent bad pun?  _

 

_ Yes!,  _ Victor wrote.

 

_ Wow, I’m flattered. Can I put that on my resume now? “Maker of excellent bad puns and other social gaffes.”  _

 

_ Sure, if you want. I’ll back you up.  _

 

Victor couldn’t stop smiling, curling onto his side, cradling his phone with both hands. oodlesofpoodles responded quickly.

 

_ Thanks. I’ll just include your tumblr handle for my references. _

 

_ Lol, np.  _

_ Btw, how’ve you been?  _

 

_ Pretty good. A little swamped at work. You? _

 

_ Same. I hate that. _

 

_ Big mood. I’ve recently just moved for work and it’s been a big adjustment.  _

 

So Victor had been right—if he was living in Europe, it was as an expat. 

 

_ I did that a year ago and it’s tough. For a while I just wanted to hole up in my apartment with Makkachin _

 

It’d been such a strange experience. Victor never had a problem making friends at school or even his first couple years at LearX’s New York office. And it was particularly strange since he’d set up shop in Gdynia, a city that was like a second home because of Mamusia and Grandpa Jan—long before he made the permanent move there. But it’d been a difficult adjustment living and working there as the new head of operations for the entire continent. Colleagues were deferential even at after work drinks, and he found himself too busy to get involved in the social scene. 

Maybe that was why he’d come to depend on Phichit so much recently. No one had ever treated Victor with such disrespect and he absolutely loved it. 

 

_ That’s how I feel now,  _ oodlesofpoodles wrote, _ I just want to stay in with Nikchan and go to bed, honestly. _

 

_ It’ll get better. It just takes some time. If you can, try to get out on the weekends, travel, and definitely keep in touch with old friends. _

_ And if you don’t mind me asking—what is it you do? _

 

_ It’s kind of complicated,  _ came a reply from oodlesofpoodles after a long while, just when Victor thought he wouldn’t receive any,  _ but more than that, it’s really dull. And it’s not actually the work, it’s more this person. He’s just really petty, passive-aggressive even.  _

 

_ Oh no. He’s not your boss, is he? _

 

_ No, nothing like that. I’m actually kind of the boss? _

 

_ Can you fire him?  _

 

_ No, he doesn’t work at the same place but I have to…interact?…with him. A lot. _

_ And we actually went to the same school but he doesn’t even remember me.  _

 

_ Oh god that sounds terrible. Funny enough, I’m in the same boat. There’s this guy who’s made it his life’s mission to annoy me. We didn’t go to the same school or anything, and I’ve never met him but he acts like he has some kind of weird vendetta. _

 

Victor thought of Yuuri Katsuki, imagined him sitting at his desk with a smug smile composing that letter,  _ knowing _ just how angry he’d be the next day when he read it with a mountain of gifts taking over his office.  

 

_ You mean you have a nemesis? _ oodlesofpoodles wrote.  _ Lol, _

 

_ I wouldn’t call him a nemesis. More like a rich kid with nothing better to do other than make trouble for people who have actual work to do. _

 

_ Oh god, he sounds *awful* I’m sorry _

 

_ Yeah, I think I’m just going to have to wait him out. He’ll get bored and move on.  _

 

Victor had given some thought to what form of retaliation, if any, he should take. He was leaning toward waiting it out for now. Any other course of action he chose ran the risk of revealing just how angry he was and he didn’t want to give Katsuki the satisfaction. 

 

_ And I’ve only been in my new position for a year, and it’s been a steep learning curve,  _ Victor continued. _ I kind of got promoted over some people? And it’s not that my boss is putting any pressure on me or anything, but I don’t don’t want to disappoint them. _

 

Mamusia had admonished him for working too hard but Victor thought he wasn’t working hard enough. He wanted to  _ earn _ his position, wanted to prove to everyone at the company that his mothers’ faith in him hadn’t been misplaced. If he failed, then it would reflect poorly not only on him but on them as well. He had to be perfect—free of any potential criticism so that they would in turn also be free from criticism. 

 

_ I’m sorry,  _ Victor wrote.  _ I shouldn’t be unloading all of this on you. _

 

He didn’t really have anyone to talk to about any of this. His parents would just tell him to take it easy. Phichit would outright laugh in his face and tell him he was being ridiculous. Yura—god knows what he’d say. 

It was one of the unfortunate things about being older. Some days, Victor thought his brother was the more natural heir, so full of raw talent that everything seemed to come to him effortlessly. How different his life might be if he’d been the younger one. Would he work for his parents or would he choose something else entirely? 

But most days, he dismissed those thoughts because he couldn’t see himself anywhere else, because he really did love what he did at the company. 

 

_ Don’t be sorry,  _ oodlesofpoodles wrote back.  _ I mean, I’m the one who started talking about work. And oh god, I know that feeling so well. _ _ I work in a family-run business and sometimes I think everyone sees me as this totally incompetent coworker they have to put up with because I can’t be fired.  _

 

Victor sat up, taking his glasses off to rub his eyes. Just who was this guy anyway? It was as if the universe was playing a big joke on him, dropping oodlesofpoodles into his life.

 

_ Maybe I’m the one who should be apologizing now, lol, _ oodlesofpoodles wrote.  _ It’s just really easy talking to you. _

 

_ Same. _

 

_ I’m always here if you want to talk :) _

 

Victor closed the app and sighed, shutting his eyes. Makkachin snored softly beside him, flopping open and taking up the entire middle of the bed. He laughed, kissing her furry head before reopening Tumblr. 

It wasn’t possible to develop feelings for someone online like this, Victor told himself. He was just lonely; he needed to get out more, call up old friends, make some new ones. Visit his Grandpa Jan maybe. Or, to his parents’ delight, make a surprise trip home. 

 

_ Hey,  _ oodlesofpoodles wrote.  _ I just thought of something. For your not-nemesis lol. _

 

_ What? _

 

_ You should fight fire with fire. Don’t let him think he has a chance. Don’t just wait him out, drive him out. Show him you can’t be messed with. _

 

Victor reread the words carefully. “What do you think, Makka?” he murmured. She continued to snore, undisturbed. 

 

_ Okay, you’re right. I shouldn’t just hope he’ll go away. I need to return fire. _


	5. Chapter 5

Daily trips to Gdynia soon turned out to be the highlight of Yuuri’s week. He loved walking to the space shuttle through Bremen’s picturesque streets, quaint in a way the modern surroundings of his office would never be. He’d buy his morning coffee and a pastry at a local coffee shop down the street, and take a longer route to the shuttle station through the lovely Bürgerpark. The walk quickly became his morning ritual: it let him brace himself for the day to come, and while the dark aroma of his _Kaffee_ burnt his tongue, Yuuri took a long while to brainstorm ideas for F.O.O.L. and go over his agenda for the day which Chris always sent him at an insanely early hour.

And of course, Nikchan was there. Yuuri quickly took to letting the poodle run wild in the park, keen to snap pictures of his dog in the park, playing with the leaves. No one at work minded if he brought Nikchan to the office – and it wasn’t just the fact that Yuuri’s word could well be law: the poodle was simply too adorable for words and even Yurio, the grumpy intern-turned-associate who swore to be a cat person, had been seen rubbing Nikchan’s belly on occasion, a fact that instantly made its way into their Foolchats.

Just as he finished his drink, Yuuri would be ready to hop on the space shuttle, which soon took him and Nikchan all the way to Poland. The commute wasn’t long; Yuuri usually spent it petting his dog and browsing his Tumblr, and if makka-baby was awake – which he usually was – they would exchange a few messages and morning dog pictures.

Yuuri lived for those moments.

*

Yuuri felt dead on the inside.

“You didn’t tell me you had a significant other,” Chris told him the moment he entered the F.O.O.L. headquarters. He waited for Yuuri by the door, Yurio by his side with a furious scowl on his face and flowers in his arms. Chris had taken the younger man under his wing, entertained by Yurio’s infamous temper, although he tended to calm down around Yuuri.

Yuuri suspected it had something to do with self-preservation. No one wanted to irritate the CEO.

Well – no one but the CEO of the company next door.

“I don’t have a significant other,” Yuuri felt obligated to point out. “Why did you say that?”

Chris smiled, his eyes bright behind the round wire glasses, and simply pointed his chin at the glass slide door to Yuuri’s office.

“Because you don’t just send flowers like those to people who are not significant.”

Yuuri stopped dead in his track. Even though the sheer glass separated him still from his office, he could see clear as day that the bouquet of flowers on this desk was perhaps the most extravagant floral composition he had ever laid is eyes on.

“Oh,” he just said, darkly. “It’s from Nikiforov.”

He entered his office quickly, Nikchan trotting behind him happily, and took a closer look at the flowers.

The scent was almost overwhelming; in childhood, Yuuri had developed a slight allergy to tulips and he knew it would be only a matter of time before he’d sneeze all over his office. There were dozens of tulips there, and that was not all; other flowers tucked in between made a breath-taking sight. Yuuri could almost appreciate it – he might hate Nikiforov, but whoever had composed the bouquet made a true piece of art.

“All the employees received smaller bouquets,” Yurio said something for the first time. He eyed his own bouquet with visible distaste, waving it at Yuuri.

“I wonder how he knew how many people work here,” Chris wondered, looking straight at Yurio.

“Not from your husband, I assume?” Yuuri told him dryly. He wasn’t being serious; Chris had proven a good friend and a loyal co-worker.

“Please,” Chris rolled his eyes. “Phichit’s an advisor and he knows his job. If he’d had anything to do with this, do you think they’d go with that?”

He walked up to Yuuri and the bouquet and pointed at the single flower on the side, one that Yuuri hadn’t noticed, enthralled by the sight.

It was a tiger lily.

“Does Nikiforov realize,” Yuuri asked in a wooden voice, “that Katsuki is a Japanese name?”

Chris shrugged.

“Even if he didn’t recognize the language, Katsuki Enterprises is a rather recognizable brand,” he said, carefully.

They both knew where this was going.

“So he must have known enough not to send a tiger lily to a Japanese person,” Yuuri said. “Because everyone, including his adviser on Asian matters, would tell him that a tiger lily sent to a Japanese person is an insult.”

“What insult?” Yurio asked.

“It’s a funeral flower,” Chris said because Yuuri was becoming worked up.

“That dickhead,” Yurio muttered. “Oh. Sorry”.

Yuuri shrugged, for once not caring that the junior associate had an attitude; Yurio was bright and smart, enough for Yuuri to consider offering him a better position after his graduation next year, that is if he learned better manners. But now he couldn’t be bothered.

“Don’t apologize,” he said. “I share the sentiment wholeheartedly.”

He finally noticed the elegant envelope tucked in between the flowers and took it out, gesturing at Yurio.

“Can you please remove these somewhere else?” he said, feeling his allergy becoming worse and worse with every moment.

“Where?” Yuri asked.

Yuuri shrugged, taking a letter out of the envelope, uncaring. “No idea. To the dumpster?”

*

Dear Mr. Katsuki,

Please forgive us for our lackluster welcome. We meant no disrespect; we were actually unaware of your move-in date. It is company policy to send a welcome basket to newcomers and our office manager sent you one as a matter of course. It has been brought to my attention that these baskets are not up to the standards at LearX and we have chosen a new vendor going forward.

And you are absolutely right. Let’s work in the spirit of kind-heartedness and good-sportsmanship. Please see the attached legal filings. In the name of sportsmanship, you won’t have a problem kindly withdrawing from Gdynia and the E.U. if the courts rule in our favor.  

Again, sincerest apologies for the initial welcome gift we sent. Please enjoy these flowers. We hope these meet your standards but please do let us know if we’ve come short in any way. We’ve closed out three flower shops in the area but I’m happy to make calls to Gdansk and clear out a few more shops to ensure you feel sufficiently “cared for.”

We’ll see you in court soon.

  
Yours,

Victor Nikiforov

Executive Vice President

LearX European Division

\--

_Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake - Napoleon_

*

Victor received the note the morning after the flower caper, as he liked to call it.

Dear Mr. Nikiforov,

I hope this letter finds you in good health and excellent mood, both qualities being something your basket ensured that I will not have.

It is my belief that E.U. courts are not only just but also competent; as I understand some of these adjectives may carry meanings that are foreign concept to you, please kindly accept this Oxford English Dictionary that you will find with this message.

I will, of course, follow the letter of law as is my duty both as a lawyer and a citizen. However, as a legal practitioner myself, I do believe that the odds may not be in your favor, as saddening as I’m sure it is.

Having said that, I must mention that I am allergic to two things, tulips and insipidity, and you have graciously delivered both. I assume that I should be grateful for your care; however, the tiger lily in the bouquet you so kindly sent leads me to believe that you wish me not only a quick relocation from Gdynia but also an equally quick death.

Please accept this much-needed lesson in hospitality, then; if you ever need further pointers, do not hesitate to contact us as F.O.O.L. We never turn down those who reach out for our help.

 

Kind regards,

Katsuki Yuuri

Executive Managing Director

F.O.O.L.

Katsuki Enterprises

\--

 _Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much._ Oscar Wilde

*

“Is he serious? Sending me the OED? He can’t be fucking serious,” Victor said, pacing in circles inside of his office as Phichit read the note. “And stop eating that!”

Phichit paid him no attention and continued munching on a gorgeous pastry decorated with real rose petals.

“I mean, how the hell was I supposed to know he was allergic to tulips?” Victor groaned. “And our florist assured me that a tiger lily would be an extravagant touch.”

Phichit put the letter aside and picking up another pastry, this time a mini eclair dusted off with flakes of actual gold. Victor wanted to take the entire tray of them and shove it up--

“I tried to warn you,” Phichit said, shaking his head as he popped a second eclair into his mouth.

“What?” Victor said, stopping. “When?”

He rolled his eyes. “You were too busy letting the florist talk you into emptying your bank account.”

“Well, I don’t want him to die! I didn’t know it was a cultural symbol for death! I just want him to leave me alone.” Victor quickened his pacing.

“Stop stomping around. You’re giving me a headache,” Phichit said.

Victor flopped down onto his sofa, curling up with Makkachin. “I have never been so insulted in my entire life. It’s infuriating. He thinks he can just move into _my_ city--”

“It’s not your city.”

“--and into _my_ building--”

“It’s also not your building.”

“--and into _my_ life,” Victor finished, glaring at Phichit. “He thinks he can just stroll in and shit all over everything I’ve worked so hard to build?”

Phichit plucked a bag of coffee beans from the ridiculous package Yuuri Katsuki had sent. “Seeing as how he sent over ten kilos of civet coffee, I’d say that’s a pretty accurate statement.”

“Are you kidding me.”

“Nope. The guy literally sent you cat shit coffee!” Phichit grinned, then snapped a photo that would undoubtedly end up on his Instagram within the hour with some clever caption mocking Victor.

“Why is he like this?” Victor groaned, massaging his temple aggressively.

“Why are _both of you_ like this?” Phichit said. “You need to let this weird pissing contest go. All you’re doing is wasting company funds on extravagant gifts to impress each other.”

Victor shook his head sadly. Phichit was brilliant and when he wasn’t making fun of Victor, he was worth every last penny. In fact, it was an annual tradition by this point for Victor to offer to buy out his consulting contract and bring him on full time. Of course Phichit always refused—something about working alongside his husband at the consultancy, which didn’t make any sense to Victor since Phichit rarely ever traveled to their home office in Paris. All of which was to say: Victor held Phichit in the highest esteem.

But he also knew that in this particular case, Phichit was wrong. “It’s not a waste. And sure, maybe it looks like some weird pissing contest, but it’s actually a business strategy, don’t you see?”

Phichit raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I fail to see how this is a smart strategy.”

“We’re showing them that we’ll match them shot for shot. We’re showing them that we’re willing to go all out to win this.” Victor thought of what oodlesofpoodles had said a few nights before: _You should fight fire with fire. Don’t let him think he has a chance. Don’t just wait him out, drive him out. Show him you can’t be messed with._

“We’re showing them that we’re willing to go all out on extravagant gifts?” Phichit said, kicking his feet up on Victor’s coffee table.

“We’re showing them we can’t be messed with,” Victor said. “That we won’t take insults lying down. _He_ was the one who started it with that ridiculous gift basket last week.”

“Oh, well, if _he_ started it,” Phichit said, laughing.

“Ha, ha,” Victor huffed.

“Alright, you’re the boss.” Phichit stood and straightened his jacket before heading toward the door.

 _“_ Wait, where are you going? We have to think of a way to retaliate.”

“You work on that. I need to finish the quarterly reports and I have an early lunch.”

“Who with?”

“Chris.”

“You’re going all the way back to Bern to have lunch with your husband?” Victor asked, confused.

“No, of course not,” Phichit said. “Didn’t I tell you? As of two weeks ago, Chris also works in Gdynia.”

“What?” Victor only felt more confused.

“I’m sure I mentioned it to you,” Phichit said, scratching his head with an air of innocence. “Maybe I forgot. But yeah, heworksacrossthestreetwithyuurikatsukiokaybye.” Then he was out the door, the sound of his quick strides disappearing down the hall.

“Phichit!” Victor ran after him, following him to his office and shutting the door behind him. “What the hell?”

“Yeah…” Phichit shot him his brightest smile. “Sorry I forgot to mention that.” He turned the wattage up on his smile, blinding Victor with its brilliance. “But Chris has been consulting for Katsuki Enterprises for years, so.”

Victor sighed and dramatically slid down the glass doors, hitting the floor with a thump. “First Yura and now _you_?”

“Well, technically Chris has worked with Yuuri way longer than Yurio has.”

“Yurio?”

“Oh, it’s what they call him over there, to avoid confusion.”

“Does EVERYONE work for F.O.O.L.?” Victor asked, not expecting an answer.

“No, silly, I don’t work for them, and neither does Mila or—”

“Oh my god, stop.” Victor tucked his chin between his knees. “Wait. I know!”

“Uh oh.”

“This is actually great news!” Victor stood up and dusted himself off.

“It is?”

“You can spy on them for me,” he said excitedly.

Phichit just laughed at him.

*

Curled up at home with Makkachin eating Chinese takeout, Victor contemplated his next move. Of course he had to respond in kind and while he could easily rack up a bill with rare wines and such, it wouldn’t have the impact he wanted.

Taking a break from his excessive brooding, he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of Makka eating a piece of chicken, fed to her by him with a pair of chopsticks. With minimal editing and no filter, it was up on Tumblr in minutes. 

He lazily scrolled through his dash and checked his inbox, knocking out a few easy asks. Then he saw oodlesofpoodles had liked and reblogged the picture of Makkachin and posted a hilarious and adorable video of Nikchan arguing with squirrels. 

 

_ Hey _ , he sent in a message.  _ Looks like another beautiful day in Nikchan’s world that we all happen to live in.  _

 

_ Haha,  _ oodlesofpoodles wrote back.  _ Same could be said about Makkachin :)  _

 

_ Shhh, don’t tell her or it’ll go to her head.  _

 

_ Okay, I’ll try to keep it a secret but I gotta say she’s already internet famous, it’s too late. _

 

_ Lol _

 

Victor smiled at the texts and scratched behind Makkachin’s ear. “Hear that? You’re internet famous. Soon I’ll be able to quit my job and you can support us with your modeling contracts and TV ads.” She shot him a droll look and sighed. “We’ll travel all over the world and never have to think about Yuuri Katsuki again.” 

 

_ So how are you? _ oodlesofpoodles wrote.

 

_ I’m okay. What about you?  _

 

_ I’m fine. It’s just that guy at work I was talking about the other day. He’s actually managed to exceed expectations in his ability to irritate me. _

 

Victor frown at his screen in annoyance. Who was this asshole who kept making life difficult for oodlesofpoodles? Whoever it was, he reminded Victor of Yuuri Katsuki. Shaking his head, he responded:

 

_ Oh no. What happened? _

 

_ He’s just infuriating. It’s like he’s made it his life goal to embarrass me in front of all my colleagues. It’s humiliating.  _

 

_ Oh my god I know the feeling!!  _

 

_ Uhoh. Your not-nemesis?  _

 

_ Yeah, _ Victor wrote, frowning in irritation just thinking about Yuuri Katsuki again.  _ He’s roped me into this dick measuring contest and I can’t back out now. _

 

_ Yes, that’s exactly what’s happening on my end. I can’t back down either or it’ll look like I’m weak or a push over.  _

 

_ Like you’re admitting defeat. _

 

_ Exactly.  _

 

Victor got up to put his food away in the nearly empty fridge. He should go get some groceries, cook for once. Back in law school, he made dinner at least once a week, inviting friends over for borscht or pierogi made with Grandpa Jan’s special recipe. He ate better and took better care of himself then. That weekend, he’d go to the store and make real food for once, he promised himself. 

In bed, he turned on the TV and checked his phone again: one email from the New York office, which he ignored, and a text from Mamusia asking how he was, which he answered with a short “I’m fine” even when he wasn’t quite feeling fine. 

When he couldn’t sleep, he returned to Tumblr, scrolling deep down his dash and mindlessly reblogging the occasional post, stopping only when oodlesofpoodles messaged him.

 

_ Omg why are you still up?  _

 

Victor didn’t know where oodlesofpoodles lived but he suspected they were in the same timezone given what he knew so far.

 

_ Why are *you* still up? _ He wrote back.

 

_ You got me there. I made the horrible mistake of rewatching the Godfather and now I have to finish. _

 

_ I love the Godfather! _

 

_ It’s one of my favorite movies. And quite apropos, given my current situation. _

 

_ What??? Is this when you tell me you’re actually in the mafia?  _

 

_ Haha, I wish. No, it’s silly, I just mean the stuff about taking down your enemies, going to the mattresses. _

 

Victor hadn’t watched the Godfather in years and found himself googling “going to the mattresses.” Was this something he’d forgotten? Did it have some weird sexual angle he’d missed? Was it some plot Michael Corleone had hatched involving some elaborate honeypot operation? 

Oh. 

None of the above. It was about a bunch of men sleeping on mattresses on the floor in nondescript apartments, semi-automatic weapons at their side, ready to go to war guns blazing. 

 

_ I have a big thing tomorrow, _ oodlesofpoodles continued.  _ So I’m trying to pump myself up a little.  _

 

Victor had a big thing too, he thought suddenly. Tomorrow  _ was _ the first court date—the first of several initial hearings. Insignificant, really. Lawyers from LearX were more than capable of handling it without Victor so he hadn’t given it much thought until now. Maybe he should be there, make extra sure things went smoothly.

 

_ Does it work?  _ He asked.

 

_ It helps get me in the right mindset, you know. Kill or be killed.  _

 

_ Alright, I’m game. Can’t sleep anyway, might as well. _

 

_ Oh my god, it’s so late and you’re just going to start it now? It’s like three hours long! _

 

_ Sounds perfect. _

oodlesofpoodles decided to restart the first movie again so they could watch it together and they spent the rest of the night texting each other about it. Victor woke to the first rays of sunlight with only a few hours of sleep but felt more awake than he had in a long, long time. The night before had been almost like a dream, or if he were being more honest with himself, almost like a _date._

He found himself thinking about oodlesofpoodles and smiling to himself on his morning walk along the water with Makkachin and on the way to the office. Of course he wondered about the usual things—what the man behind the screen looked like, how old he was—but more often than not, Victor wondered about what the man behind the screen thought of _him,_ about what it’d be like to sit across from each other, about what it’d be like to talk all night and fall asleep in each other’s arms. oodlesofpoodles, as ridiculous as his username sounded, seemed to understand him. Seemed to see _him_ and not Victor the heir to the company throne, Victor the overachiever, Victor the eligible bachelor.  

Last night they talked about everything and nothing—the movie, of course, but also what they wanted out of life, what they hoped to accomplish. They talked about their childhoods, careful to omit any potentially identifying personal details. They talked about their years at school and their families. And they circled back to their mutual problems at work.

By the time Victor fell asleep, he had a plan, and by the time he woke, he had a good feeling about it. He called Mickey into his office first thing and gave him a list to execute. Then he spoke to Mila and the other lawyers before heading out to court.

Inside the courthouse, he waited patiently for the hearing to begin, for the judge and the lawyers from the other side to appear. He had hoped to make an impression by showing up alone, he had hoped to show the judge just how seriously LearX took the suit they’d filed, that it wasn’t simply a delay tactic to avoid making payouts to F.O.O.L.

He had hoped that by the end of the day, he’d leave the court charmed and the other side flustered. But of course, Yuuri Katsuki ruined all of that when he showed up ten minutes before the hearing, also alone and without his team.

They locked eyes, shock and confusion on both their faces. _Fuck,_ Victor thought as realization struck him. Katsuki must’ve had the same thought as Victor. _Fuck ,_ Victor thought as he stared at him across the aisle. He’d seen pictures of Yuuri before but they didn’t do the man justice. It was cruel, just how unfairly attractive he was.

_Fuck._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by the wonderful [mega-truong](http://mega-truong.tumblr.com), thank you so much <3


	6. Chapter 6

Yuuri had always thrived in courts. Where Mari could never understand his love for all the legal loopholes and paragraphs, Yuuri blossomed breathing in the solemn atmosphere, the quicksilver thinking, the mere idea that he could speak out and give a performance of a lifetime.

Courts were miraculous places. The thrill of a challenge always tore out his anxiety one thought at a time, just like Yuuri would tear his opponents to pieces. He always enjoyed the subtle undercurrent of power as much as the legal authority he could see come to live during a court case; law was were Yuuri belonged.

And he felt nothing like this now, ten minutes before the hearing. Yuuri had to force himself not to rub his eyes, so sleep-deprived he felt. The seven o’clock shuttle from Bremen did nothing to smoothen the wrinkles on his dark blue suit, and even though he’d slicked his hair back before stepping out of his apartment, he could feel it escape and brush against his temples. He adjusted his glasses impatiently and hoped it didn’t come across as a nervous gesture.

Now he knew: it was a mistake to arrive alone. He should have taken his chief lawyer Sara’s advice and let her team of lawyers accompany him; but back when they’d spoken, he’d felt self-assured enough that he’d thought he could face Nikiforov on his own. Now all his preparations seemed in vain.

If Yuuri had learned anything at law school, it was the fact that he should always take all the variables into account. It was foolish indeed that he failed to do so now.

 _Oh no,_ Yuuri thought, _how can he be so handsome._

Of course – he’d seen Nikiforov before; but it was one thing to _know_ the man was attractive. It was another to realize it from up close.

_No, Yuuri, stop being like that. You have to focus._

He could have a crisis later; he knew he’d have one, as soon as he’d step out of the court and lose himself in the safe, blissful oblivion of Tumblr and dog fur.

He took one deep breath and hoped Nikiforov didn’t notice how he had to clench his fists to stop his hands from trembling. It was too late to call Sara now. He was alone there, as alone as he’d ever be, more alone than in that terrifying moment when they hang in space, weightless, breathless, no more than specks of dust in infinite void.

Yuuri was alone and the entire company depended on him.

“Nikiforov,” he said now, forcing his voice to sound steady. “Good morning. Fancy seeing you here.”

_What are you even doing, Yuuri?_

He should offer his hand, he knew, that’s what Europeans did, that’s what Nikiforov would expect. But his hand got sweaty and cold, and Yuuri knew all about subtle exchanges of power. He wouldn’t give Nikiforov this pleasure.

 _Keep your head up high,_ he thought to himself and moved past the man without as much as glancing at him.

If Nikiforov replied anything, Yuuri didn’t hear it.  All he could hear in the first moments inside the courtroom was his own absurdly loud heartbeat.

It was really the worst timing ever for letting his mind wander, but Yuuri could not help it. He slowly let the similar lull of the court wash over him like a spell, calming his mind if only for a second; and then the harsh sound of _LearX_ vs _Fierce Opponents of LearX_ brought him back to the well-known, despised frenzy.

Yuuri could barely focus on him, but he had an inkling of what Nikiforov had to be thinking. He probably took one look at Yuuri and decided it was pointless to bother with such a mess of a human in the first place, all flushed and tense and with a heartbeat that had to echo in the stone walls of the court like a hopeless scream.

True enough – Nikiforov was staring at him, and try as he might, Yuuri couldn’t read him. The man had a contemplative expression on his face, and it suited him a bit too well.

Yuuri had never wanted to make out with a plaintiff before, but he had also never met a plaintiff who was as breathtaking as Victor Nikiforov.

The universe was so unfair sometimes.

*

“So,” the judge then said, “I thought we could resolve this matter as soon as possible this morning.”

Yuuri got shaken out of his reverie, finally looking at something other than Nikiforov’s beautiful, horrible face.

He really should have asked Sara to come along.

Yuuri did his best not to tune out Nikiforov’s speech as the man took the floor. Nikiforov, of course, brought no notes with him. Yuuri remembered what they had been saying about him at law school – Nikiforov’s memory was so good he never noted anything down, and he was so eloquent that the infamous Professor Baranovskaya once gave him a smile.

And then Nikiforov began to speak and Yuuri didn’t hear a word.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know what the plaintiff’s side was always supposed to say. Nikiforov would argue that the current relevant statuses would not apply to space travel, quote them verbatim for a better effect, and offer an interpretation that would suit him and wreck Yuuri.

Yuuri was good at creating worst scenarios. He spent two sleepless nights conjuring up every legal interpretation he thought Nikiforov would use, picked out all the possible loopholes, and spent one more night rewatching _The Godfather_ to pump himself up and slay Nikiforov before the man would slay him.

He knew what Nikiforov would say.

He just didn’t know how he’d say it.

Nikiforov stood straight, his suit still impeccable, no matter how intently Yuuri wished otherwise. Whenever Yuuri would adopt such a pose, he always thought he’d never get rid of a certain rigidity of his movements. But Nikiforov looked as if he was born to speak; there was nothing in his posture that would suggest any tension, only an easy confidence that took Yuuri’s breath away and he hated himself for it. Nikiforov’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried well, like an actor’s, and Yuuri couldn’t help but think that if he may have hoped for a performance of a lifetime and he got one, but it certainly wasn’t his own.

“I cannot, in good conscience, accept that a law written before the era of touristic space travel could apply to my company. LearX specializes in travels beyond our troposphere. The 2004 regulation emerged after a court case that dealt with plane passengers, not space travel. Could we really allow this man torment our perfectly legally operating business if the law he bases his actions off is as antiquated as the planes he deals with?”

Yuuri blinked. The attack struck a more personal chord than he’d expected; his mistake, perhaps, for thinking that Nikiforov would play fair.

“Mr. Nikiforov, you are here to present your case against Mr. Katsuki, not to offer a commentary on our legal system. Please proceed.”

“My apologies, Your Honor,” Nikiforov allowed. Yuuri thought he had never seen a less apologetic man in his life. “What I was trying to indicate was that Mr. Katsuki’s company operates on nothing more than a presumption which has no convincing legal foundation.”

*

Yuuri had never wanted to punch anyone this hard in his entire life, which was perhaps a bit unfortunate considering their situation. He didn’t think punching people was a way to win a case in a democratic country; neither he thought destroying beauty did society any favours, and Nikiforov’s face was nothing if not stunning.

Yuuri really hated his life sometimes.

He was well aware he was making an amateurish mistake, not paying too much attention to Nikiforov’s speech. But he’d gone through the case before – Yuuri was fairly sure he knew everything there was to know, and now, come what may, he had to believe it would be enough.

Yuuri was – well – human; and he had his vices. If losing himself in the appreciation of beauty was going to be his own one, then Yuuri was surprisingly okay with watching how Nikiforov’s fingers drew a graceful line in the air as he made a gesture; how he casually threw his head back, exposing the pale skin on his neck; how he kept his voice low but commanded the whole room. If Yuuri were a better man, he’d hold his imagination back, but this was a courtroom, he was sleep-deprived and hot under the collar, and it was enough he was holding back his fist so as not to punch the man; he was not going to hold back his imagination, too, and stop thinking what it would be like to kiss him.

“Mr. Katsuki?” he heard then. Perhaps it really was an inopportune time to fantasize. “Mr Katsuki? Do I understand correctly that you have nothing to say?”

Well, it’s now or never, Yuuri thought, trying to shake off the image of Nikiforov’s skin from his mind. He looked up at the judge.

“My apologies, Your Honor,” he said. “I got carried away with Mr. Nikiforov’s excellent performance.”

Now or never, Yuuri repeated to himself.

*

“I am not going to hold back,” he announced, knowing full well where the words were coming from and hating himself even more for it, “when I say that every word that left Mr. Nikiforov’s mouth today was complete and utter rubbish.”

“Mr. Katsuki, I’d advise you to mind your tone.” the judge said. Yuuri didn’t have as much as to glance at her to know her expression was full of disapproval.

“Apologies, Your Honor,” he said. “And my apologies to Mr. Nikiforov, too. You must believe me when I say that we all feel lucky that it is you who leads LearX into the future.”

Yuuri thought he was, perhaps, coming on too strong, but he didn’t care. Suspiciously, Nikiforov fell silent, so Yuuri simply took a glance at his notes and steadied himself before promising himself one more time that he was going to beat Nikiforov once and for all, without fail, and he was going to do that now.

“I would like to offer an alternative interpretation of the very same convention Mr. Nikiforov so conveniently dismissed as not valid. Allow me to quote...”

As Yuuri went on, he let himself breathe. This was why he wanted to be a lawyer: so that he could walk in a world that made sense, and so that he would be the one who could make sense of it. He didn’t even bother reading his notes anymore – the words flew both from his heart and from his memory. If Nikiforov itched to interrupt him, he didn’t dare.

“We could therefore understand outer space travel as a natural progression of aeroplane travel, in which case the lawsuits filed by F.O.O.L. Inc are all valid. As we all know, old regulations are more prone to change; in today’s fast-paced world we would all be making a mistake if we insisted that our minds stay as inflexible and rusted as a scrap spacecraft.”

He let the last words ring in the courtroom and made sure to glare at Nikiforov. He did it: he presented his case and survived, and as Yuuri stared hard into Nikiforov’s eyes, he allowed himself one final smirk.


	7. Chapter 7

Dear Mr. Katsuki,

I hope this letter finds you well. I apologize for not stopping by to chat after the verdict was read out, and I know this note will not suffice, but I feel I must reach out with an olive branch.

Though I’m sure you’re considering appealing the court’s decision, I urge you to reconsider. It can be so difficult, starting one’s career, especially when you feel you have a lot to prove. And it can seem like every setback or obstacle should only push you to work harder, attack further, but looking back at my early years at LearX, I can say with absolute confidence that some battles are best left lost.

To be perfectly honest with you, I still do not quite understand why exactly you have chosen F.O.O.L. as your first foray into practicing law. (And yes, I did note the clever play on words--King Lear and the Fool--and I confess it got a laugh out of me.) As I noted in my first letter to you, it struck me as a bit strange that Katsuki Enterprises ventured so far out of the hospitality sector, a more familiar hunting ground, to involve themselves in aerospace travel. I’m sure you have your reasons, and I can respect that.

I recently learned that we are both graduates of Columbia, and that we likely have more in common than we think, coming from family enterprises and entering into high profile positions, with law degrees in hand.

But I digress.

This is all to say: I’m sorry we started off on such a wrong foot. I admire your work and wish you all the best in your future endeavors.

Yours,

Victor Nikiforov

Executive Vice President

LearX European Division

\--

_The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong. - Gandhi_

*

“What do you think?” Victor asked Phichit. Leaning back in his office chair, he kicked his feet up onto his desk and gave Makka an absent-minded scratch behind the ears. 

“Not terrible,” was the response. 

“That’s it?” 

“Do you care? We won,” Phichit said with a shrug.

“Of course I care.” Victor sat up straight, indignant. 

_ "Why _ do you care?” 

“I want to be gracious in victory?” That was certainly part of it, but there was something else as well. The time he shared with Yuuri in court--even without a speedy decision from the judge, it was as if everything had changed after that day. Electricity crackled in the air, it seemed, when Yuuri spoke. It was difficult to articulate this new feeling to himself, let alone to Phichit.

“Well, it looks good.” Phichit stood. “Send it off. Though are you going to attach some ridiculous gift again?” 

“Yeah, I was thinking of catering a lunch from Kosmos for them? Too much?”

Phichit sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’re going to do whatever you want.” 

“That’s true,” he smiled.

“Oh by the way, Chris and I are having a holiday get-together next month. You in? It’ll just be a few friends.”

“Send me an email? I’ll check my calendar but I should be free.” Victor swiveled around as Phichit left, staring at the water, the setting sun just beyond.

At home, he fed Makkachin and ordered takeout, sitting by the wall of glass facing the Baltic and watching the last wisps of light evaporate from the sky. He should feel happy. Triumphant, even. This was what he wanted, this was a major obstacle now out of his way. He could go back to running the European division of LearX without distraction. There was an important conference coming up in New York, one where he’d be making a speech. Not the keynote, but still a high profile one on the future of space travel and the importance of every nation coming together for the advancement of science and creating policy that would make space travel more accessible. His mothers would be in attendance, and more importantly, so would the board of LearX. 

This was exactly what he needed, and the timing was perfect. Only, he felt a strange sense of loss. Perhaps not loss but an emptiness. This always happens, he reminded himself. After every major achievement came a period of mild ennui. After he got into Columbia, he’d felt thrilled for a day and then nothing. After he graduated and passed the bar, the same thing. And again when he got promoted to the head of the European division of LearX. After every high came a low. 

He poured himself a glass of wine, swirling it absentmindedly as he looked outside. The glass felt like a strange illusion. Floor-to-ceiling and stretching the width of the wall in a single pane, it gave the impression that his living room opened out into the world. Standing at the edge, Victor could look down and feel a stab of fear, like he might fall. But that’s all it was, an illusion. 

The fantasy of freedom given by an object meant to keep you boxed in.

He shook his head, set his glass down and picked up his phone. 

 

_ Hey, _ he wrote to oodlesofpoodles.  _ How was your day? _

 

He responded within ten minutes.

 

_ Shitty. Yours? _

 

Oh no. That meant it hadn’t gone well for him, the thing with his nemesis. 

 

_ Are you okay? _ Victor asked.  _ I’m sorry.  _

 

_ Yeah, it’ll be fine. I think. Maybe? The guy that I hate, he sent this obnoxious letter basically rubbing it in my face.  _

 

_ What a shithead _ , Victor wrote.  _ Tell me who it is and I’ll go punch him for you. _

 

_ Lol, no, it’s okay. But what about your thing today? _ oodlesofpoodles asked. 

 

_ Oh. It went well, actually?  _

 

_ Congrats!!! I’m so happy for you. I hope you gave him hell. _

 

Victor stared at his phone, unsure of how to respond. It  _ was _ what he’d wanted, to show up and give Yuuri Katsuki hell. But now, in the afterglow of victory, he felt...bad. Yuuri had fought hard and fought well. As Victor watched him lay out his arguments, he couldn’t help but grow more and more impressed. Yuuri had done everything he would’ve done and more, bringing up points Victor wouldn’t have thought of. As his opponent, Victor had actually felt nervous and  _ that _ was exhilarating, and as a fellow man of law, Victor had been knocked off his feet. 

If Victor allowed himself to be honest, he’d admit he was enthralled by Yuuri Katsuki. He’d admit that the reason the ennui after this particular victor was partly due to the fact that there was a good chance Katsuki might pack up and go home. He’d written in his letter that he’d hoped FOOL wouldn’t appeal the decision, but a secret part of him wished they would. If Victor allowed himself to be honest, he’d admit he wanted to see Yuuri Katsuki again. And again. And again. 

He looked down at his conversation with oodlesofpoodles.  _ I hope you gave him hell, _ his friend had written.

 

_ He gave as good as he got. I was actually blown away? It’s hard to explain.  _

 

The response:  _??? _

 

_ Never mind. I’m a little tired and out of it and may have drank a glass or two of wine. _

 

Victor wanted to shift the focus away from himself, especially since he knew his friend was suffering. __

 

_ But tell me about what happened today? I’m always here if you want to talk, _ he wrote.

Victor wasn’t quite sure how, but his friendship with oodlesofpoodles had become one of the most important relationships in his life. Despite the fact that they hid behind usernames and tried to keep personal details of their lives private, they still spoke every day. He didn’t know what oodlesofpoodles looked like or how his voice sounded but he still felt this unmistakable connection to him, and if a day went by without at least a quick hello, the absence was palpable. He often found himself wondering if oodlesofpoodles felt the same way, he often found himself wanting to meet in person. But he never said anything for fear of disrupting the routine they’d settled into. 

 

_ It’s okay, _ oodlesofpoodles wrote back.  _ I don’t want to bring you down today. We’ll talk about it later, go and celebrate!! _

 

Victor almost laughed. Did oodleofpoodles think he was surrounded by friends and coworkers at a bar, drinking wine and celebrating the win? He snapped a quick photo of Makkachin, his arm draped around her.

 

_ It’s just us tonight. We’re here for you (Makka just barked in agreement <3). _

 

_ Haha, okay. You guys are the best. _

 

Victor just smiled down at his screen. 

*

Dear Mr. Nikiforov,

Thank you for your letter.

Though it does not surprise me in the least, I am a bit disappointed that you seem to take me for a fool that would accept a condescending pat on the back and move on.

While your understanding of Shakespeare might yet be your redeeming quality, I am at a loss with what to tell you. If you know your _King Lear_ well enough, you should recall all the roles the Fool played in it. It was never only about making Lear laugh.

Neither was it the Fool’s intention to put all the cards on the table. You must indulge me on this when I say I’m going to keep it this way.

I can, however, tell you one thing. Fool is more than Katsuki Enterprises, and so are the people who make it. And if you took a moment to consider our mission, you would know we have not strayed as far from our expertise in hospitality as you seem to think.

It’s a small world, isn’t it? Columbia helped me become the man I am now, and I have Lilia Baranovskaya to thank for that. She speaks of you kindly – after your performance in court, I can even understand why. I wonder if she’d be as complimentary about your company as she was regarding your prowess in court.

For what it’s worth, I hope that you will see where I’m coming from and what reasons I have for this.

Yours,

Katsuki Yuuri

Executive Managing Director

F.O.O.L.

Katsuki  
Enterprises

PS. Please accept this small gift as a token of my good will.

\--

 _Strength and growth come only through continuous effort and struggle._ – Napoleon Hill

*

“Do you think it sounds alright?” asked Yuuri.

Chris took an irritatingly long moment to put his glasses on. He moved to stand by Yuuri’s chair in his office, looking much more relaxed than Yuuri was feeling.

“Looks okay to me,” he finally said. “You’re being—almost nice, though.”

Yuuri pursed his lips, staring at the email before he hit sent.

“I’m feeling sorry for him, that’s all,” he told Chris with more confidence than he felt. “I’ve been putting some things in motion. He won’t even know what hit him.”

“Care to share?”, asked Chris.

Yuuri let himself smirk.

“Let just say it’s a bit worse than finding a horse’s head in your bed,” he said. He needed to look over the hastily drafted email to Emil before he’d share any details with Chris, but for now, the Godfather joke would do. It prompted Chris’s laugh just like Yuuri hoped it would, but did nothing to settle his worry.

The curling waves of anxiety that he’d felt after hearing the judge’s verdict might now be washed away by makka-baby’s steady support, but Yuuri knew full well that it didn’t improve F.O.O.L.’s situation. The invitation to Kosmos, the best restaurant in town, seemed to mock him with all its golden letters.

Chris, of course, was excited about it.

“Are you really gonna eat there?”, Yuuri asked him, resigned.

“They have _moon cakes,_ Yuuri. And _space cakes._ ”

“Chris, he just signed. “You know you’re gonna eat actual rocks?”

It was too much. He needed to catch the first shuttle back to Bremen, marathon the hell out of antiquated space operas, and hug his dog.

Nikchan was sound asleep though. Yuuri didn’t want to wake her up – at least one of them would enjoy their peace of mind. Instead, he reached for his phone and pulled up the Tumblr up, scrolling up until he found the picture of makka-baby’s adorable poodle.

“I’m gonna retire and take care of poodles,” Yuuri announced to Chris. “See? Look at this dog. So adorable. Completely worth retiring for.”

“You can’t retire, you’re not even thirty yet,” Chris replied without thinking. He moved obligingly closer, looking at the picture Yuuri was showing him. “I don’t think--oh.”

“Oh?” Yuuri said. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

He didn’t know how to read the look that passed through Chris’s face.

“I’m just – a cat person.”

“A cat person”, Yuuri repeated.

“I mean, I have – I have a cat?”

Yuuri put the phone away, looking up to meet Chris’s eyes, but the man stared hard at the phone instead.

“I know you have a cat,” Yuuri said. “But Chris, you bring Nikchan gourmet liver and carry her around when you think I can’t see you.”

“I’m a—I’m a strategically inclined cat person,” Chris said, moving to the door.

Yuuri watched Chris’s exit strategy impassively, almost bored. Chris allowed himself the luxury of one shaky breath before he fished out his own phone from his pocket and texted his husband.

_I need a picture of Nikiforov’s dog. It’s important._


	8. Chapter 8

From: Phichit Chulanont

To: Christophe Giacometti

Subject: Fwd: look, makka made friends with a seagull!!!

Okay, here’s Makkachin. Why? Also, when will you be home? We need to take Fluffy to the vet, remember?

SWAK,

P.

\--

_From: Victor Nikiforov_

_To: Phichit Chulanont_

_Subject: look, makka made friends with a seagull!!!_

_She’s so smart! I took a video. I swear, she’s actually communicating with the gull._

[Video of Makkachin running around the water and barking at a squawking seagull.]

\--  
From: Christophe Giacometti

To: Phichit Chulanont.

Subject: Re: Fwd: look, makka made friends with a seagull!!!

We’re going to have to reschedule that vet appointment.

\--  
From: Phichit Chulanont

To: Christophe Giacometti

Subject: Re: Re: Fwd: look, makka made friends with a seagull!!!

???

You don’t just disrupt Fluffy’s routine without an Explanation, Christoph. (ง ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°)ง

\--

From: Christophe Giacometti

To: Phichit Chulanont

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Fwd: look, makka made friends with a seagull!!!

Take a sick day and come home, I’m leaving the office right now. It’s an Emergency, Phichit. A serious Emergency.

\--

From: Phichit Chulanont

To: Christophe Giacometti

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fwd: look, makka made friends with a seagull!!!

This isn’t like the time you noticed a grey hair and told me to leave the office for an emergency, is it? Because I love you, but I’m not taking a sick day for that.

\--

From: Phichit Chulanont

To: Christophe Giacometti

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Fwd: look, makka made friends with a seagull!!!

I can’t tell if this silence means it’s an Actual Emergency or if you’re ignoring me. Alright fine, I’m leaving the office now.

If it’s another grey hair, I’m gonna demand Compensation.  

*

Victor scanned the letter twice, then read it again for third time. What reasons could Katsuki possibly have? He couldn’t figure it out. From what he could tell, Yuuri Katsuki had randomly decided to target LearX, moving to Europe and opening offices in Gdańsk as if on a whim.

He set the letter down and examined the small jeweler’s box that had accompanied it, carefully sliding the top off to find cufflinks. A feeling of awe came over him. They weren’t like any cufflinks he’d ever seen. They weren’t gold or platinum, they weren’t monogrammed. 

They were made out of meteors. 

“What the actual fuck?” he whispered to himself. Makkachin looked up from the couch and when she was sure Victor wasn’t talking to her, put her head back down on a pillow and yawned. It  _ was _ late. Victor glanced out of his window at the dark sky and sea. 

“Let’s go,” he said and she sprung into action, tail wagging as he clipped on her lead. On the walk home, he couldn’t stop thinking about the gift. It was so incredibly different than anything Yuuri had given him before. It wasn’t flashy, it didn’t cause a scene at the office upon delivery. He found himself checking his coat pocket every few steps, not wanting to lose it.

If anything, the cufflinks felt strangely personal. Victor hadn’t been in a relationship since law school so he couldn’t be sure but wasn’t this the kind of thing you gave to a boyfriend? 

And it wasn’t that that he didn’t want to find love again, he just didn’t have time, not with people like Yuuri Katsuki breathing down his neck. 

That conjured an interesting image.

Victor shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He hadn’t known what to expect when Yuuri stood to deliver his oral arguments in the courtroom, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed. The way Yuuri spoke, the way he carried himself—it wasn’t just some speech. It’d felt like a  _ performance, _ and like everyone in the room that day, Victor had been enthralled.

Yuuri had surprised him, that much was true. And now he’d surprised Victor again, with his response and gift. There was no doubt in his mind that Yuuri planned to appeal the decision, and of course that irked him, but there was a part of him that felt oddly excited at the thought of seeing Yuuri again. 

No one had ever challenged Victor as much as Yuuri had, and it made him feel  _ alive _ . 

At home, he fed Makka and ordered out again. One of these days, he’d get around to cooking for himself again, Makkachin too. The dog food recipe tag on his Tumblr sorely needed updating. 

 

_ Hey, _ he wrote to oodlesofpoodles.

 

_ Hey, how are you? :)  _

_ I was just about to message you! _

 

Victor smiled down at his phone as he pulled his tie loose and tossed it aside. 

 

_ I’m okay, _ he wrote back.  _ Makka and I are having dinner. _ He took a quick shot of Makkachin gulping down her dinner and sent it over.  _ Well, Makka is having dinner and I’m waiting for mind to arrive. _

 

_ Did you send a picture? I didn’t get anything. _

 

Victor groaned. Stupid site, stupid app.  _ Hold on, I’ll post it and send you a link _ .

 

_ No need to send a link, I have notifications on for you.  _

_ Sorry, is that too stalkerish? _

 

_ No, _ Victor typed back.  _ Unless I’m also a stalker? But it’s not stalking if it’s mutual, right? ;)  _

 

_ Lol. Guess not. _

_ Wait, omg, why do you have notifications on for me??? _

 

_ Really? C’mon, we talk every day, you’re basically my best friend. _

 

Victor set the phone down and sighed. Moments like that always made Victor  _ wonder _ . Was there something between them? Was it possible to fall in love with someone solely through textual communication? And more than that, through the goddamn Tumblr app?

Often, he found himself thinking about what oodlesofpoodles’ real name was—not for internet stalking (okay, not  _ just _ for internet stalking), but because calling him oodlesofpoodles in his mind ruined the daydream. He couldn’t exactly sign  _ Victor Nikiforov-Oodlesofpoodles _ a hundred times. 

Not that he wanted to! 

Did he? 

Maybe it was all in his head, maybe his semi-anonymous friend was just that—a friend. Neither of them had ever exchanged personal details, not even first name initials, and while oodlesofpoodles seemed to be similarly aware that they were both in Europe, neither of them had ever broached the subject of meeting. 

 

_ You’re my best friend too, _ oodlesofpoodles wrote back.  _ I feel like I can tell you anything _ .

 

Tell me your name, Victor wanted to say. Tell me who you are. 

 

_ Same, _ he wrote instead.

 

Victor picked up the small jeweler’s box Yuuri had sent and slid the top off to stare at the meteorite cufflinks. He wanted someone in his life he could spoil with gifts like that, not a corporate enemy who sent him passive-aggressive presents and who wanted to embarrass him publicly.

 

_ How’s work?  _ Victor asked. Oodlesofpoodles had suffered a recent setback with his Mortal Enemy and Victor was worried he was taking it hard. 

 

_ I think I’m making some progress, _ oodlesofpoodles replied. 

 

_ That’s awesome. I’m always here if you want to talk. _

 

_ Thanks :) _

 

Then, for extra measure, he took another picture of Makkachin and sent it.

 

_ Does she have meat in her doggy beard? Lol _

 

_ Omg, lol.  _

_ Oh god, now I’m chasing her around the flat with a towel. She thinks we’re playing some kind of game…! _

 

_ LOL _ .  _ I want video. _

 

They spent the rest of the evening talking about everything and nothing, oodlesofpoodles keeping him company when his dinner arrived. It was almost like a date. Almost.

*

The next morning, Victor woke up, Makkachin snuggled into his side, softly snoring. He placed a kiss on her head and ran a lazy hand through her fur.

When he looked up, he saw the jeweler’s box, the cufflinks sitting innocently on his night stand. The idea came to him in the shower. There was no way for Victor to out-Katsuki Katsuki himself. He didn’t know why he even tried in the first place. The man was a scion of a global hotel conglomerate, hospitality ran in his veins. There was no gift too great or too expensive or too ridiculous. Yuuri’s imagination for making him suffer by giving him gifts had no limits.

It wasn’t fair. The man was perfect—too perfect!—and stupidly handsome with the face of an angel and the body of a—

Victor shook his head roughly. Not helpful, he told his brain as he shut off the water and toweled off. He’d been thinking of oodlesofpoodles when he got the idea, thinking of the kinds of things he wanted to give him, if they were more than just friends. Nothing flashy, nothing over the top, just something simple yet meaningful.

The most valuable thing for Victor wasn’t money, it was time. He’d been going about this all wrong. If he wanted to elicit the same kind of reaction he had when he saw the cufflinks Yuuri had sent, it couldn’t be expensive liquor or obscene gift baskets, something that cost a lot of money but could be taken care of with a few clicks or delegated to staff.

He got dressed quickly, called Makkachin from the bedroom. They’d go for a walk, making a stop at the grocery store.

“Come on,” he called out to Makka again. This time she jumped from bed and eagerly ran out of the room at the newfound enthusiasm in his voice.

He paused at the door, tapping a gloved finger to his lips. Perhaps it’d be too much.

No, he though, shaking his head. They had gone too far to care about that now.

On the way to the story, he texted his Grandpa Jan, asking for a very special family recipe.


	9. Chapter 9

“And what, pray tell,” Yuuri said, “is that?”

“Jam,” Yurio answered.  Yuuri couldn’t decide whether the intern looked more appalled than gleeful.

They were in Yuuri’s office, the soft light of the afternoon turning into somber shades of grey November. Yuuri was hugging Nikchan close to his chest; it had been a tough day, a dreadful one – the had lost one court case against LearX and Yuuri couldn’t help but feel guilty that they let down the customers who put trust in them – and more than a little frustrated that he didn’t get to look down on Nikiforov. F.O.O.L’s customer’s cases were not going to be put on hold yet, but Yuuri was afraid they would be declared invalid if his plan cooked up with Emil will not come through. There was so much at stake, so much to worry about.

And then, the basket.

Yuuri didn’t even look past the weird-looking jam. It bore no label, and Yuuri – wary of such a reckless manufacturer – suddenly recalled Mari’s words from a long time ago.

“Yurio,” he said, “are you sure this isn’t poison?”

Yurio snorted, coming up to him and taking the jar out of his hands. He casually opened the lid and turned to the basket, reaching for a set of silver spoons.

Of course Nikiforov had to send something fancy again.

“It’s not poison,” Yurio said. He took some with his spoon and ate it with obvious contentment. “We actually call it varenye, it’s something similar to jam. We can eat it on its own but it works well as pirozhki stuffing. And it’s wonderful to sweeten your tea”.

“Tea,” Yuuri repeated, incredulous. “You drink tea with jam.”

“Of course we do,” Yurio answered, as if it was the most obvious truth in the world. “It’s delicious.”

“It’s disgusting”, Yuuri just said.

Yurio gave him a very unimpressed look, the spoon still in his hand. He held the varenye jar up higher to meet Yuuri’s eyes.

“This”, he said, “is Aunt Sanya’s old recipe, or maybe Uncle Jan’s? They usually make it together - they call it their bonding time, they have slightly different recipes and bicker about them a lot. Their cooking is heavenly. It’s the stuff of gods. You – you will not insult it.”

He put the jar with more reverence than he had ever shown to Yuuri’s coffee, and soon he stalked out of the office, but not before pointing a long sharp finger at Yuuri’s face.

“You – wait here.”

“I’m your boss,” Yuuri pointed out. “You can’t make me.”

“In this moment,” Yurio announced, “you’re just nothing more but a jam ignoramus. Wait here.”

Some battles were meant to be lost, Yuuri supposed. He decided to talk to Yurio later, when he calmed down.

“Where are you going?”, he just asked.

“To make you tea!”

*

“It’s disgusting,” Yuuri repeated.

He absolutely loved it. The taste was sweet and fresh, but the fruity flavour did not overwhelm the richness of Earl Grey. Chris would have a field day if he knew.

Yuuri vowed to take the varenye jar home and not tell a soul.

“It’s not disgusting,” Yurio denied, and he was so right, and Yuuri couldn’t tell him. “You just have no taste.”

Yuuri wondered why he was even bothered to chat with an employee who treated him like that. They were sitting in his office, sharing the jar and drinking tea, Yuuri casually browsing some documents on his laptop, Yurio ranting and petting Nikchan with an expression so murderous that Yuuri had to be extremely sneaky before snapping a pic of the them and posting it on Foolchat.

“What I don’t have,” Yuuri said instead, “is some background info. How exactly are you related to Victor Nikiforov?”

“We’re not related,” Yurio said, automatically.

“And how many hours did you practice that in front of your mirror?” Yuuri fired back. “Don’t lie to me. _Aunt Sanya,_ wasn’t it? She’s your aunt. Is Plisetsky even your true surname?”

“Yes, she’s my-- my aunt. And she’s proud that I’m becoming more independent by distancing myself from our family business and getting some well-needed experience elsewhere, where I can learn the ropes like any other intern,” Yuri said. ‘It’s not my real surname but I can’t ride on my family’s coattails forever. And Plisetsky - well, did you know they spell it differently in Polish? Plisiecki. It’s - different, I think. I’m not the great Nikiforov kid, I’m just a normal guy. I just, you know - fit in, for a change. I can -- I can hide my identity but it’s a means to reveal my skills.”

Yuuri ignored most of that; he would deal with one thing at a time, no more. It was just like him, to get entangled in a mess and then trip while trying to find a way out.

“And your aunt, she doesn’t mind that you’re working for the enemy,” Yuuri answered, taking a sip of his tea. God, it was perfect.

“Not at all,” Yuri smiled for the first time. “She finds your little feud with Vitya absolutely hilarious. But we’re not allowed to tell him that.”

Yuuri wondered, silently, what kind of family they were, the Nikiforovs. The relationship between the brothers seemed to be not unlike the one he shared with Mari.

“So did she really make that jam?”, he asked.

“Mama? No, of course not. She’s in Australia, I think, or maybe New Zealand, far too busy to cook. ‘Vitya’s a grown up man and should know where he keeps his pots,’ her words, not mine.”

 _Mama,_ Yuuri thought, and a suspicion sneaked into his mind. There had just been a mention of an aunt and an uncle before, but now. _Well. I’ll let him keep his secrets, even if they’re not secrets anymore._ The whole situation was so full of irony that Yuuri no longer knew what to think.

“Victor Nikiforov made that jam”, Yuuri said.

Victor Nikiforov, the bane of Yuuri’s existence, his archenemy, his nemesis, the pain in his neck, had cooked jam especially for him.

“Yep.”

“It’s disgusting,” Yuuri said, eagerly taking another sip. “Absolutely disgusting.”

*

From: Christophe Giacometti

To: Phichit Chulanont

Mon cheri, how do you feel about doing something possibly life-changing and insanely reckless?

\--

From: Phichit Chulanont

To: Christophe Giacometti

Darling, no, we’re not installing a pole for you to dance in the kitchen, no matter how enticing this idea actually could be. Think of our children.

\--

From: Christophe Giacometti

To: Phichit Chulanont

Mon cheri,

First of all, our hamsters are not as self-aware, and if they are, I’m sure they would be sophisticated enough to appreciate an artful performance.

Second of all, you’re robbing yourself of an unforgettable experience. Think of it as testing new spices in our kitchen routine.

And third of all, no, in fact it’s not about the pole at all. Would you mind terribly if we played matchmaker?  

\--

From: Phichit Chulanont

To: Christophe Giacometti

Our hamsters are too pure for your _artful performances,_ Chris.

And really, matchmaking? Consider me interested. Tell me more.

Yours,

Phichit

PS If you want to spice up our kitchen experience, we’re actually running out of salt. It’s your turn to do the shopping.

\--  
  
From: Christophe Giacometti

To: Phichit Chulanont

I’m wounded, darling. Heartbroken.

But I’ll pour all my pain and desperation into this cute tiny project that I’m sure you’re going to love.

I’ve just left Yuuri’s office. He barely noticed me there, so focused he was on texting his mysterious penpal whose dog suspiciously looks like Victor’s.

I think we’re in the perfect position - as perfect as the position of the pole in our kitchen would be - to make them both happier and our lives easier.

Well, that, and I just want to shake Yuuri sometimes. The Finance department is after me because all those pretentious gifts for LearX are ripping a hole in the budget. And I’m not even at fault here.

So, please save your innocent husband. Think how fun it could be.

\--

From: Phichit Chulanont

To: Christophe Giacometti

I’m sorry for getting back to you so late, darling, we had a meeting. Victor kept glancing at his phone the whole time.

They’re using Tumblr, Chris. _Tumblr!_ This is disgraceful. This app hasn’t had an update since 2021 and the only thing they added then was that weird hovering dot that shows someone typing. I swear they’re the only people who still use the Tumblr messenger to communicate, it’s like using a dinosaur to pull your car when you can have something with an actual engine.

Anyway, yes, I’m in. This is getting ridiculous. Let’s organize them a dog date or something, and let’s be Quick about it.

Don’t forget to buy the salt.

Love,

Phichit

*

Saturday came chilly and snowy, with frost painting the windows of Yuuri’s flat. One quick grocery trip told Yuuri all he needed to know: it was going to be a wonderful day in Bremen, the kind of cold that makes you invigorated. 

It would be a great day for a date, he knew. Judging by the unread email in his inbox, Chris certainly seemed to think so as well. He’d sent Yuuri all the details of his blind date, complete with detailed instructions as to which space shuttle Yuuri and Nikchan should take. They were going to meet in Berlin, apparently. Yuuri wondered whether he’d have the time to grab a cup of coffee in his favourite cafe in Berlin Kreuzberg, and then realized that perhaps he could enjoy it together with the mysterious man. 

_ Don’t worry,  _ Chris had written him,  _ he’s a dog person. Have some trust in me.  _

Yuuri had exactly zero trust in Chris as far as personal matters were concerned, so he decided to take his words with a grain of salt. He didn’t fault Chris for setting Yuuri up with someone - Yuuri figured his friends simply worried about him, the same way Mari always did. 

It probably didn’t look well from an outsider’s perspective, he thought: waking up in a flat in a foreign country, alone, with a dog for his only company. 

But Yuuri didn’t feel alone; he wondered, too, whether he wouldn’t be hit by insurmountable loneliness if he lived with someone who would never understand his drive, his will to push himself to limits and see where it would take him. There weren’t too many people who would accept this part of Yuuri, he was sure, and no matter how well-meaning Chris seemed to be, Yuuri doubted the date would be a success. 

There was exactly one person who understood Yuuri completely and accepted him as he was, who always met him halfway. 

Who - if Yuuri was not mistaken - was going to be online, as always on Saturday mornings. 

 

_ hi,  _ he typed on Tumblr,  _ are you there?  _

 

He wondered whether he should go; the shuttle wasn’t going to leave until four in the afternoon, leaving Yuuri enough time to drown in self-doubt and baking flour like he originally planned to. Perhaps makka-baby would have an answer for his conundrum. 

 

_ where else would I be? :)  _ came a quick reply followed by a picture of a poodle sleeping on a couch. Yuuri spotted a glimpse of a man’s pale hand holding a pair of glasses and he suddenly wished, not for the first time, to be able to see makka-baby, to talk to him in person. 

But he didn’t even know the other man’s name. 

 

_ it’s a Saturday, you might be busy living your life _

_ not wasting in on this hellsite _

 

Yuuri decided to follow makka-baby’s example and cuddled on his own sofa with Nikchan, losing his hand in the dog’s soft curly fur. 

 

_ I’m busy living my life on weekdays _

_ on Saturdays I’m busy being lazy!  _

 

Yuuri chuckled. Makka-baby had the right idea how to live his life, it seemed. Yuuri approved of this and he told him so. 

 

_ I actually need to go out this afternoon, _ makka-baby continued,  _ a friend is forcing me to socialize cause I’m like a monk. _

 

_ ugh,  _ Yuuri wrote back. It was eerie how makka-baby’s life so often mirrored his own.  _ Same here, actually. I got a blind date set up and I’m feeling kinda skeptical? nothing’s gonna come out of this anyway.  _

 

_ Are you gonna go?  _ makka-baby asked.  _ If you’re not feeling comfortable, I don’t want you to suffer through the entire evening.  _

 

_ I don’t know,  _ Yuuri wrote. He’d rather spend the whole day chatting with makka-baby back and forth but he felt too shy to say that.  _ I don’t want to waste his time, I guess?  _

 

_ You would never waste anyone’s time,  _ makka-baby’s reply came immediately.  _ He’d be lucky to spend the evening with you.  _

 

Yuuri didn’t know what to say to that. He cuddled Nikchan for warmth and comfort, wondering what to write back until his phone’s screen faded to black and he didn’t see the conversation anymore. Just when Yuuri decided to awkwardly skive off the topic and move on, the phone buzzed. 

 

_ So what are you gonna do if you decide not to go?  _

 

Yuuri hesitated.  _ Talk to you?  _ he was tempted to write, but he immediately decided against it. 

_ I’m gonna bake, _ he finally wrote. It wasn’t a lie, after all. He was - to his own surprise - looking forward to it. It was a rare free day for him, and with the New York conference approaching, he was going to have less and less leisure time. He wanted to use it well.

 

_ Baking! That’s amazing!  _

_ I’m awful in the kitchen, I can only make a few recipes that my grandpa taught me _

_ What are you gonna bake?  _

 

_ Something that reminds me of home,  _ Yuuri wrote with a smile.  _ My mother’s recipe.  _

 

_ That’s exciting! is it a special occasion?  _

_ I hope you’re not feeling homesick omg  _

 

_ A little bit of both, I suppose,  _ Yuuri wrote,  _ but mostly I’d just like to do something nice for someone who was unexpectedly kind.  _

 

Yuuri saw that makka-baby was not typing anything back, so he took a deep breath and admitted what he had been suspecting ever since the last gift basket.

 

_ I think I may have misjudged him.  _

 

The answer from makka-baby came after a long while. 

 

_ It shows that you’re a good person, you know _

_ the fact that you can admit you were wrong _

_ I know very many people who wouldn’t be this mature _

 

Yuuri felt warmth color his cheeks. 

 

_ Thank you??,  _ he wrote,  _ it means so much to me that you say so _

_ but I was really wrong, at least to an extent? so I don’t feel good about it _

_ He’s… I don’t know _

_ not a perfect person but definitely better than I expected _

_ I didn’t think he’d be able to be kind and understanding but he is _

_ I think in other circumstances perhaps we could really understand each other _

 

He hadn’t voiced these thoughts before, not even to Nikchan in the wee hours on the morning when she was asleep and he couldn’t bear to close his eyes. 

 

_ You’re an amazing person, you know,  _ makka-baby finally wrote. Yuuri was just about to reply something awkward when another message from the other man showed up.

_ I need to go and prepare for that outing now _

_ good luck with your baking!  _

 

Yuuri typed back a goodbye of his own, and then no new messages appeared. He untangled himself from Nikchan’s paws and padded to the kitchen, ready to prepare the dough for his cookies. 

 

He felt surprisingly lonely. 

___

From: Phichit Chulanont

To: Christophe Giacometti

So that went well. Let’s never play matchmakers again.

I’m just relieved that our children remain Unaware. Imagine the shame we have brought upon them.

\--

From: Christophe Giacometti

To: Phichit Chulanont

Did Victor mention anything about the date at all?

There’s no shame in trying to make two people happy, darling. Our hamsters would be proud of us.

You know, if we had a pole in our kitchen, I could give you a performance that would lift your spirits up.

\--

From: Phichit Chulanont

To: Christophe Giacometti

He didn’t seem to want to talk about it, no. He actually looked a bit sad, wistful even. I think he’s feeling a bit lonely.

I’m still vetoing the pole.

\--

From: Christophe Giacometti

To: Phichit Chulanont

Yuuri didn’t say anything either. He seemed to be in a good mood today, though. I wonder how he spent yesterday afternoon but of course he won’t say. He’s been texting non-stop, though.

Maybe we should try again, darling. And again. As they say, third time lucky.

\--

From: Phichit Chulanont

To: Christophe Giacometti

You’re right. We can’t give up. We need to give our children a Good Example.

And Christmas is coming. I hate to think that both of these dorks would spend it alone holed up in their apartments.

I know you prefer our Christmas parties to be lavish, but maybe this time we could organize something simpler. Just the two of us and these two hopeless idiots. What do you think?

\--

From: Christophe Giacometti

To: Phichit Chulanont

Mon petit chou,

You have the best ideas. We can’t tell them about the other’s presence, though. It’s going to be hilarious. I’m in.

*

Dear Mr. Nikiforov,

I hope this letter finds you well.

I’m afraid your last gift was not appreciated enough. I hope I’m not too forward when I offer this in return. Matcha cookies are a popular enough indulgence, but this particular recipe is special - my mother came up with it herself, and soon it became a thing Katsuki Enterprises took great pride in. These cookies always remind me of her; they make me think that you can accomplish great things if you put your heart into it. And now they’re my comfort when I’m far away from home.

 

Wishing you well,

Katsuki Yuuri

Executive Managing Director

F.O.O.L.

Katsuki Enterprises

\--

 _Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves. -_ Carl Jung


	10. Chapter 10

“No.”

“You don’t have to socialize”, Chris argued. “Just be yourself.”

Yuuri glared at him from his cozy spot in the corner of the living room. He had everything there – a reading nook, a fully charged e-reader, a cup of tea – none of which could be found at a party.

“Analyse carefully what you’ve just said”, he replied.

Chris looked thoughtful for a fraction of a second before his face brightened, his eyes twinkling behind the round glasses he was wearing.

“There’ll be drinks there”, he said. 

“No.”

Drinks, according to Chris, were the opposite of a problem. Yuuri had different opinions on the matter, steaming from the one time he partially undressed on a space station in Mars and almost got fined for indecent exposure, nearly destroying his career prospects in the process. Chris was there to encourage him in that endeavour. Yuuri had never quite forgiven him for that. 

It was easier said than done to be yourself at a party, especially one thrown by Chris and Phichit. Chris always insisted on flashy decor with sexual undertones (“If it doesn’t look like a dildo, there’s no fun in it, Yuuri”). On the other hand, his husband delighted in composing menu extravagant enough that even Yuuri, with his lifelong expertise in food, courtesy of Hiroko, could not deal with the sheer  _ Instagrammability  _ of it all. Yuuri needed at least a seven days’ notice and lots of mental preparation to even consider emerging from his home and fly to Bern to attend such a party.

“Okay”, Chris said now, easily.

“Okay?”

“No drinks”, Chris said. “You know no one will force you to drink if you don’t want to.”

Chris had never in his life forced Yuuri to do anything, but he always strongly supported him in his more morally questionable undertakings, usually being the one who had to hold Yuuri’s drink or the one to pour it. 

“I don’t want not to drink”, Yuuri sai, because he was sure Chris got it, he just pretended not to so Yuuri had to spell it out. “I don’t want to go there at all.”

 “It’s gonna be fun”, Chris kept insisting. “And I’ll be there.”

“You’re becoming the epitome of the exact definition of  _ not fun  _ when you’re like this. And we can hang out here, where there are no people. I don’t like people”.

“You’re people, too, Yuuri. We’re people!”

“I’m a  _ person”,  _ Yuuri sniffs. “That’s a difference.”

Chris was a good friend – the best friend, not counting tiny Nikchan – but he just didn’t get it: the need to get away from it all, to wrap himself in a blanket and watch comfort movies. Chris was a force of nature that basked in attention and wilted without it; whereas Yuuri, surrounded by people in his office, didn’t feel the need to share his space in his free time.

It’s so ironic, he thought, that the space is so vast and unexplored, and so lonely – and yet he couldn’t find a quiet place for himself.

“I don’t want you to spend Christmas alone”, Chris said, quietly.

Yuuri snorted.

“It’s more of a lovers’ holiday in Japan, you know,” he answered. “I don’t have a lover. So, you know, I could spend it alone like I should.”

He didn’t mention to Chris that he could hop on a shuttle and go somewhere, to his family, or with his family. It wasn’t as if Chris weren’t aware of that; he also seemed to think that it didn’t matter. 

“Are you trying to tell me you’re not hiding a lover from me?” Chris wiggled his eyebrows, prompting Yuuri to roll his eyes. 

If he thought about makka-baby’s easy humour, smart wit and kindness, Chris didn’t need to know that. 

“Okay”, Chris said. “Right. Are you sure? What if there’s a dog? A cute, sweet dog in a Christmas jumper?”

That made Yuuri pause. Chris’’s face was bright and hopeful like Christmas lights. For a second, Yuuri lets guilt wash over him – Chris wasn’t even a dog person, he just wanted to do something good and Yuuri knew it, but at the same time, Chris’s idea of  _ good  _ differed a lot from Yuuri’s. His parties usually threw Yuuri out of his comfort zone so hard that he could end up on a different planet and feel closer to home.

Maybe not Mars, though. He’s got enough of that.

“I’ll consider it, okay?”, he finally said because maybe making himself unhappy is worth if it made Chris happy in return. “Give me some time”.

Perhaps in a week Chris would come up with another trick that he would try to make Yuuri fall for, but if Yuuri could buy himself a bit more time, he would gladly pay a small fortune for that.

“You have thirty seconds”, Chris said. 

Yuuri made a point of sending him a glare and performing an ostentatious walk to the bathroom, where he locked himself behind the white safety of his doors. He sat in the dry, empty bathtub, hugging his knees close to his chest and resting his chin on them, his phone in his hands.

He knew his thirty seconds had passed but Chris would not mind; Yuuri needed his space.

He fiddled with his phone, a stressful habit he had long begun to ignore – it finally buzzed in his hand just when Yuuri was about to write to makka-baby. Though still annoyed at Chris, Yuuri couldn’t help but smile when he saw makka-baby’s greeting.

They hadn’t chatted since the previous morning, when Yuuri was bored out of his mind on the space shuttle and makka-baby spammed him with dog pics to cheer him up.

 

_ Good morning :)  _

_ How are you?  _

 

_ I’m gonna answer I’m fine if you help me get out of a party. I’m not gonna be fine at a party,  _ wrote Yuuri to him.

 

_ Uhoh, what do you need me to do? Are you there now? _

 

_ Nah, I’m at home. And no one forces me to do anything but I don’t wanna make my best friend sad if I stay at home alone for Christmas. _

 

Chris was whistling in the living room, Yuuri could hear it. He decided against leaving the bathroom yet. No reply from makka-baby came, but Yuuri just kept typing - suddenly he felt the need to share, even though the other man had yet to learn about the full extent of Yuuri’s anxiety. For a second, he wondered whether he was going to regret saying all of this, but he realized he didn’t care. His fingers moved faster.

 

_ There’s gonna be so loud there. So many people? Do you know this kind of air that gets too warm cause there’s too many people in the room? it’s gonna be like this, I’m sure and I hate it. I don’t care if it’s Christmas if it’s gonna be awful _

 

_ I know what you mean, _ makka-baby wrote. _ I feel most alone in a crowd. I’m sorry this is your Christmas :( _

_ No, don’t be sorry. Not your fault. Sorry for word-vomiting at you though. _

 

_ It’s okay! _ Yuuri typed. _ Actually, I’m going to a party too. _

_ Oh I’m sorry _

 

_ Lol, don’t be sorry. Hey, if you want, I have a secret stash of makka pictures just for an occasion like this. Do you want me to send you one every half hour? _

 

But Yuuri continued as if makka-baby hadn’t said that, suddenly ashamed. Makka-baby had always been there for him to support him, no matter what, no matter where, no matter in which time zone they both were. Be it dog pics or funny memes or words of encouragement, Yuuri could count on him. And yet here he was, disappearing on his friend with no notice.

 

_ I’m sorry though _

_ I’m shitty at people _

_ at people-ing? _

_ didn’t mean to bother you _

_ and sorry for the silence omg _

 

And just like he’d thought he would, Yuuri immediately regretted sending any of this, too raw and emotional and sans punctuation. If Yuuri the lawyer was nothing but meticulous, then Yuuri – just Yuuri – would leave his professional cool in the skyscraper where it belonged: among double-glazed floor-to-ceiling windows and paperwork that they for some reason kept calling paperwork even though everything was uploaded to their Foolcloud and no actual paper was involved.

His phone pinged. Yuuri looked at the screen; makka-baby’s message, unexpectedly sweet, brought him more comfort than he’d expect. 

 

_ you could never, ever be a bother! _

_ how could my favourite person be a bother? impossible! _

_ and I get what you mean, I’ve got a party coming up too and it’s kinda stressful  _

 

Yuuri stared at the message, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest. He finally put the phone away as he heard the muffle shuffle of Chris’s socks in the corridor, probably lingering by the door to check whether he was fine or not.

“I’m okay!”, he hollered, anxiously clutching his phone. He hadn’t been less okay since the day they had lost the court case against LearX.  “You don’t have to spy on me, Chris!”

“For God’s sake”, Chris shouted from the other side of the door. “Lemme in, Yuuri! If you’re gonna mope here, at least have the decency to share that sulk with your dog!”

His phone buzzed, but Yuuri tore his eyes away from it and turned his head to the door. He watched as Chris gently opened the door and shooed Nikchan in. The dog usually needed some coaxing to enter the bathroom – Yuuri suspected he’d hate unexpected baths, too – but this time he seemed to sense Yuuri’s discomfort and soon Yuuri buried his head in Nikchan’s soft curly fur.

“You’re the best”, he muttered.

“I know!”, Chris shouted back, closing the door. “Don’t have to tell me!”

Yuuri snickered, suddenly feeling lighter.

“I was talking to Nikchan, you dork!”

Chris left. The patter of his footsteps soon dimmed in the flat. Yuuri smiled as Nikchan nuzzled into the crook of his arm, and then his phone buzzed again.

 

_ are you there?  _

_ I’m sorry - I just wanna make sure you’re okay _

_ if you weren’t, you’d tell me, right? _

_ I need to leave for the party soon ;/ _

_ if you go to yours, we can swap horror stories later ;) _

 

Yuuri couldn’t help but smile at this. For a second, he was tempted to reconsider. Chris would leave soon, with or without Yuuri in tow.

Yuuri hated being such a disappointment.

Perhaps he should join in; Chris would complain endlessly if he didn’t, or worse yet, he would send in his husband to pester Yuuri instead, and they would give him a gag Christmas gift that they would never let him live down. And yet Yuuri remembered – vaguely – what their last party had been like: hopped on the shuttle to Estonia, first to Instagram Tallin’s sights, then to get miserably drunk with the Blue Diamond vodka and Viru beer. The rest, as it was often the case, was a bit of a blur. Somehow Yuuri had woken up in Helsinki a few hours later.

Finland, Yuuri thought, was deadly cold in February.

 

_ I’m okay,  _ he typed back.  _ Sorry. I’m thinking _

_ And my dog is here _

 

_ your dog! a pic? we should swap dog pics!  _

_ here’s my Makka, look at her in the snow! <3 _

 

A picture followed soon, the poodle with her tongue out as if she were smiling. Yuuri couldn’t help it, he cracked a smile too and immediately sent a picture of Nikchan back. 

 

_ hello Nikchan! you’re such a handsome doggo!  _

_ I need to leave Makka at home now :(  _

_ it’s such a sacrifice to be friends with cat people ;)  _

_ they love Makka! but she’s sworn enemies with their cats  _

 

Yuuri thought how uncanny it was - Nikchan disliked Chris’s cat as well. Sometimes it felt as if Yuuri’s and makka-baby’s lives were running on two parallel axes and only crossed each other in the most unexpected everyday moments. He typed a quick message about Nikchan’s enmity with the cat, and after a short hesitation added also  _ my best friend is a cat person. _

 

_ My brother’s a cat person too! He’s the odd one out in our family. _

_ it’s such a coincidence! I feel we have so much in common, you know?  _

 

He wasn’t the only one, Yuuri thought. He hugged Nikchan closer and then ruffled the fur on his head. Dogs were a godsend, honestly. Maybe Yuuri should write a letter to Nikiforov suggesting the man adopt one and stop being such a pain in the neck.

Alright. He was not going.

He fired a quick message to makka-baby and got out of the bathtub clumsily. Nikchan sprang after him, and Yuuri picked him up for comfort when he entered the living room.

“There aren’t any dogs at your apartment”, he said in lieu of explanation.

“I know”, Chris simply said. Something in his face was softer than before, less intense. “I figured you’d say that. I’ve added a blanket and hot chocolate to your reading nook.”

“Chris”, Yuuri said, the pressure around his head suddenly much lighter. “You’re the best.”

_ * _

_ can you believe it?  _

_ i thought there were gonna be more people there _

_ but i was the only one _

_ my friends wanted to set me up with some guy who didn’t even show up  _

_ it was such a disaster _

 

Yuuri grimaced. It sounded like an awful day; and yet he could not help but wonder what it must have been like at Chris’s. Would they even miss his company there? 

But it was pointless to ponder. He fired a quick text to makka-baby.

 

_ At least tell me there are dogs _

 

_ please _

_ they’re cat people _

 

Ah, right. Yuuri wished he could share a sympathetic smile with makka-baby now. He sent a text instead.  

 

_ If I were you, I would leave immediately. Simply outrageous _

_ No people, i can understand _

_ I’d revel in that _

_ But no dogs? Not satisfactory at all _

_ at least you understand my pain, my soulmate _

_ there were no dogs, just two friends of mine _

 

_ But fewer people means less forced socializing _

_ And you’ve said you’re friends? _

_ So maybe it’s not that bad? _

_ bad?  _

_ well _

_ I think one of them has enough blackmail material on me to make me want move permanently to Mars _

Yuuri snorted. Really, that sounded just like him and Chris. Although Yuuri would not go with Mars as his primary choice.

 

_ Aah, that kind of friendship! _

_ I get it _

_ I have a friend like that, too _

_ he’s absolutely horrible and a dork _

_ so you know my pain!  _

_ I’ve been menaing to ask, are you okay now? you didn’t go to your party, did you? _

_ *meaning _

 

Yuuri sighed. He hadn’t realized how much he needed some time alone. Had he gone to the party, he’d be absolutely miserable. He had thought that perhaps he would feel a faint touch of disappointment; it was Christmas, after all, and even Yuuri, who did not come from a Christmas-obsessed family, knew that it was a celebration you were not meant to spend on your own. Yet all he felt was tiredness, inevitable after the tense week he’d had - tiredness and contentment that he could finally relax. 

 

_ I’m fine,  _ he wrote.

_ Reading a trash sci-fi novel from the 80s with such outdated concepts of the space that it’s hilarious _

_ It’s a relief not being there though _

_ I can imagine,  _ makka-baby wrote back to him. _ I’m regretting coming here now. You had the right idea to stay in.  _

Yuuri replied before he could think better of it. 

_ I’m not saying anything _

_ But _

_ You’re sitting there miserable at the three-people party no one’s even gonna crash _

_ And your dog’s sitting alone in your flat, waiting for you and possibly chewing on your carpet _

_ I’m not saying your dog calls you but your dog calls you _

 

_ omg thanks _

_ you’ve convinced me _

_ and hey _

_ are you gonna be okay, alone for Christmas? _

 

Yuuri smiled. 

 

_ yeah, thanks _

_ I am  _

_ and it’s not like I’m alone _

_ my dog is here and you’re here, too _

 

He hesitated for a second before sending one more text.

 

_ Merry Christmas! _

 

If Yuuri returned to his book only to glance at his phone every ten seconds, Nikchan thankfully was not one to chastise him. The reply finally came more than an hour later, once Yuuri had finished his book and got around to making a cup of tea. 

 

_ I only got home now! _

_ Merry Christmas to you too!  _

 

Yuuri was just about to respond when another message appeared.

  
_ Hey,  _ makka-baby wrote,  _ isn’t it strange we were both invited to parties today and neither of us wanted to be there? _


	11. Chapter 11

 

 

Yuuri clutched his pass and realized that downgrading his seat may have been a mistake.

It was Chris who had booked his ticket, and since Chris did nothing in halves, Yuuri had been supposed to travel first class.

“You deserve some pampering,” Chris only said, wiggling his eyebrows, as if first class carried an entirely different meaning – and an entirely different choice of passengers.

“I may be a heir to Katsuki Enterprises,” Yuuri then said, pulling the card his own parents had pulled on him when he was a kid, “but I’m not spoiled. It’s a waste of resources.”

He hadn’t told Chris what he wanted to say: that he had been raised frugal and had flown first class exactly one memorable time in his life, and it was during the same fatal trip to Mars that had prompted him to set up F.O.O.L. He was not going to risk first class ever again, not when it meant he might have end up suing the transatlantic shuttle, too.  

And there was more to that, too. Their budget plan did not include fancy gifts sent to LearX at an alarmingly frequent rate, and while Yuuri knew that they didn’t fare that badly, he wanted to play it safe if he was going to continue to play it petty. Yuuri suspected that Chris knew that and the first class seat was his subtle way of telling Yuuri not to worry about it.

Yuuri, of course, worried, even more.

“I’ll be fine,” he’d told Chris then, even when Chris argued that since Yuuri and him were the only F.O.O.L. representatives they were sending to the Fly Me To The Moon conference in New York, they had some money they could spurge on the quality of the seats. But Yuuri had been unyielding, and now he was beginning to regret it.

The queue to the boarding was absurdly long, like a snake’s tail.  Yuuri had grown so used to the quick, efficient system of travel within Europe that he forgot America had not progressed at all with their views on visas and passport control, and so he was wasting his time moving at a snail’s pace whereas he could have had priority boarding.

He scrolled mindlessly through his Tumblr dashboard, desperately trying to kill the time, but it had to be that one time of the day when everyone was either asleep or at work, and so his dash was empty, makka-baby was not texting him, and Yuuri felt very, very bored.

 

_ TFW when you wanna take the shuttle but the boarding begins to last longer than the journey _

 

He failed to tag it, but it was alright: he did his civic duty by complaining about his life today, and so everything was right in the world – other than the queue.

It finally moved. Meanwhile, Yuuri managed to check his Tumblr activity three times, even though he kept telling himself he never posted anything to get likes or reblogs.

But who was he kidding. Yuuri missed makka-baby’s attention more than he missed walking up after sleeping in late; he missed the man’s sharp wit and silly sense of humour, his casual ways of checking up whether Yuuri was doing okay. He never thought he’d depend on someone this much, and definitely not on someone he had yet to meet.

Soon, he promised himself. We need to talk about meeting each other soon.

He let a disinterested holograph scan his fingertips and the barcode of his boarding pass, and then, finally, he could find his seat and relax; passengers were still entering the shuttle when his phone pinged.

_ RIP kill me now _

_ I’m gonna be late for my shuttle  _ _ (┛◉Д◉)┛ _

 

_ OMG what happened?,  _ Yuuri wrote back at once.  _  Are you okay? _

 

_ I was shopping at Gucci _

  
  


Yuuri shook his head, fired off a quick  _ lmao only you’d be this extra,  _ and put his earphones in. Long trips on the transatlantic shuttle were always so boring; he thought he’d finally catch up on all the audiobooks he had yet to listen too.

He closed his eyes and let his head fall on the headrest, soon lost in the plot of the crime novel, and only opened them a few minutes later when a muffled announcement shook him out of the storyworld.

He glanced at the passengers, too lazy and too comfortable to take the earphones out. No one seemed alarmed. Yuuri, content, closed his eyes again, and didn’t open then even when two more announcements followed in the holograph’s perfectly calm voice.

He hated the transatlantic shuttle.

*

Yuuri loved the transatlantic shuttle.

It had been quiet, peaceful, and moved forward at a comforting, improbable speed – unlike his hotel room, in which Yuuri was overcome by the noise made by his neighbour’s constant string of parties, and unlike the shuttle, the room was unmovable.

Literally – because Yuuri had managed to muster enough courage to ask at the reception desk to be moved somewhere else, only to hear they were fully booked. He returned to his room considerably more anxious, thinking of a way to move past his neighbour’s open door unnoticed and utterly failing.

The man – whoever he was – had slipped Yuuri a note the previous night, inviting him to a party after knocking on Yuuri’s door proved to be fruitless. Yuuri, scared as if he would just meet Victor Nikiforov wearing nothing but pyjamas, put the note on the windowsill and was now regularly sending glares in its general direction.

His neighbour did not stop at that, though. Soon music blared from his room, loud and creepy, a weird mixture of disco and something more traditional that Yuuri couldn’t place. The lyrics were sung in a language Yuuri did not speak; something Slavic, he thought, perhaps Russian, and that thought turned his stomach into an unpleasant, burning knot.

People crowded the neighbour’s room like flies seeking the source of light; Yuuri couldn’t escape the bursts of laughter, clear as if there were no wall separating him from the noise and the party.

 

_ We can go into space _

_ Travel faster than light _

_ And still no one has invented an antidote for being a dickhead _

 

Yuuri hit sent. Browsing Tumblr came to him partly as a distraction, partly a force of habit. He kept the lighting in his room soft and low, the only glaring flash being the screen of his phone. Yet with the cacophony of sounds coming from his neighbour’s room, it felt as if everything was set aflame.

He should have sent Chris instead. A party – that’s what Chris would enjoy, and perhaps it would be beneficial for F.O.O.L. if he were to mingle. Chris would probably be able to pull out some networking while pole-dancing and intoxicated, but Yuuri was not brave enough to dare him to try.

And Phichit was going to be here in New York, too; they would go on a date full of selfies.Instead, Yuuri felt alone an utterly miserable, and really not into parties. 

So, Tumblr. Perhaps this could even border on enjoyable, if the app didn’t keep freezing on Yuuri as he tried to check his notifications.

Perhaps he should call Phichit; his friend was due to arrive soon. Yuuri had hoped they would have run into each other in the shuttle, but Phichit, for some overly complicated reasons Yuuri could not hope to understand, decided to arrive in New York later.

There was really nothing Yuuri could occupy himself with to mute the noise, other than Tumblr or perhaps room service. He finally opted for both, and just as he ordered his food, his phone binged with a new message.

 

_ God I hate parties so much _

 

_ Same... i dread having to socialise lol _

_ There’s nothing enjoyable about it when you’re forced to talk to strangers and listen to music you can’t stand _

_ I’m being treated to a weird music combo and it’s a sound that will haunt my dreams forever _

 

_ I’m not enjoying the music here either! _

Not for the first time, Yuuri wondered how alike they both were. It was so easy – so natural – to talk to someone who always met you halfway. If only they could meet outside of Tumblr.

_ The worst thing about parties is that they hit you right in your face with the knowledge of how alone you really are _

_ Well that, and the music sucks _

 

_ the door here’s open,  _ wrote makka-baby. 

_ so who knows, maybe someone walks in and I’m not gonna be alone? _

_ jk it just sucks  _

 

_ I mean I don’t think I’m gonna meet the love of my life at a party _

_ The only memorable thing I’ve gotten at a party was a headache the morning after _

Yuuri put the phone away, forcing himself to look up from the screen –  to look away, somewhere beyond the deafening walls of the noise. It was too dark to see the cityscape and for a moment Yuuri longed for the limitless horizon line he could see from his Gdynia office, or for the fairy-tale like tiny alleys he’d fallen in love with in Bremen. The view sketching out from his hotel was not terrible – but it was lonely. The concrete jungle didn’t look so much like a jungle as an impossible maze. Yuuri felt small and more than a little lost. 

He needed to get away. He needed to get out of his head.

The noise both sharpened and dulled his senses; he felt his phone buzzing with an incoming message, but he pocketed it away and grabbed his coat. He dreaded going out – or rather, he dreaded opening the door and letting the cacophony rage free within the four white walls of his room.

It had to happen nonetheless. Yuuri opened the door with a sharp pull and hesitated on the doorstep. The music flooded his ears. Holding his breath, Yuuri sneaked past the opened door to his neighbour’s room. Risking a peak, he noticed just a moving stream of dancing people. He wondered which one of them was his neighbour from hell, but then he decided he was past caring.

Meeting the love of your life at a party, huh. Never had an idea sounded more impossible.

Stepping into the night was like going into space for the first time: liberating. Yuuri took a deep breath, even though the cool, polluted air did nothing to clear his head.

The further he walked from the hotel, the calmer he become. The only noise came from the cars passing him by and from the low grumble in the sky; every few minutes, the space shuttle flew over his head like a swarm of birds.

Yuuri looked up, meeting the dark velvet of the sky. Here and there space rockets blinked with fiery colours, going to places that were far away and undiscovered. Yuuri had hoped for a trip like this, once, an adventure of a lifetime – instead, he ended up here, on Earth, with a constantly buzzing phone in his pocket, a company he ran by accident, and an archenemy he couldn’t beat.

*

They were orbiting around Mars like an extremely careful and resigned fly.

It had been going on for hours. Yuuri felt strangely uncomfortable in his own skin, dry from the spacecraft’s aggressive air conditioning and ticklish under the standard violet spacesuit, courtesy of LearX.  Yuuri hovered in his floating seat, Nikchan on his lap, and sighed. His puppy looked incredibly adorable in his little canine spacesuit, which might well be the only redeeming quality the whole trip to Mars seemed to have.

They were supposed to land one earth day ago. Yuuri had been so excited about the upcoming trip. “Your graduation present”, his mother had told him when they were standing in front of his alma mater, posing for a picture.

Yuuri had it framed soon after, a frozen still that caught him unguarded, smiling at his mother, clutching his fresh Space Law diploma in one hand and a voucher on a family trip to Mars in the other.

Never in his life had Yuuri expected the dream trip to turn into a stuff of nightmares: hours and hours of idle waiting, bursts of irritation and a vague feeling of helplessness. Yuuri liked to be the one in charge of his life. He didn’t enjoy in the slightest the idea of being stuck in a vehicle that travelled through space to a different planet. To trust the spacecraft crew with his body, his family, and his dog had been enough of a challenge. To know that they failed to take proper care of it came as a confirmation of what Yuuri had long suspected: space travel was terrifying and dangerous, and LearX was not to be trusted.

“Dear passengers, we regret to inform you that the landing has been delayed for three hours due to dust devils occurring currently on the surface on Mars. Please remain seated. The delay may be subject to change. We apologise for the inconvenience,” a robotic voice of the holograph had sounded through the speakers twenty four earth hours before. Yuuri, who desperately wished to use the toilet, let out an annoyed huff.

“Cheer up, little brother,” Mari said. “We’ll be there soon.”

She seemed to be comfortable in her own purple suit, closing her eyes and slowly lowering her head so it touched the headrest of her seat. Yuuri huffed some more. His parents both slept through the announcement, blissfully unaware, and he couldn’t help but be jealous of them. He scratched Nikchan under her ears, wishing he could bury his hands in her soft, curly poodle fur that was now hidden under her tiny spacesuit.

“Dear passengers,” echoed through the speakers three hours later. Yuuri had not managed to visit the loo. “Due to inclement weather conditions on Mars, the landing is now delayed for three more hours. We apologise for the inconvenience. The delay may change. Please listen to the announcements.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Yuuri hissed politely at a space attendant soon after. The attendant’s eyeliner was smudged; Yuuri preferred to focus on that and not on the slightly watery look the man was sporting. “Are we  _ still  _ supposed to be seated? I’m getting slightly uncomfortable.”

“My name is Georgi and I’m your space attendant on the travel to Mars,” Georgi recited dully as if he hadn’t heard Yuuri’s question. “How may I help you?”

“Do we have to remain in our seats?” Yuuri repeated as politely as he could muster.

Georgi took out a tablet and typed something that looked like a quick question to LearX’s  space support team.

“Dear passengers,” the speakers resonated through the cabin one more time. “As of now you are no longer required to be seated. Please listen to further announcements.”

Georgi stood still until the metallic voice fell quiet. Then he grinned, his smile a bit too forced.

“Now you know,” he said. Yuuri tilted his head and shrugged, eagerly passing Nikchan to Mari so that he could finally go to the loo.

“Is that all?” Georgi asked them. He seemed as happy to leave as Yuuri.

“No, wait,” Mari said. Next to her, Katsuki Hiroko finally stirred, finally waking up, although her husband appeared happy to snore through all the announcements. “What is happening down there? What weather conditions? You guys haven’t told us anything.”

Georgi seemed as lost as the smudge of his eyeliner.

“Dust devils,” he finally said.

“Dust devils,” Mari repeated. “Doesn’t sound that bad.”

“Mari, no”, Yuuri interrupted. “Dust devils on Mars are not like those you know. Mars is closer than Earth to the Sun for a good part of the Martian year. It’s warmer there so rising hot air will create worse dust devils”.

That wasn’t all. Yuuri had ventured deep into the meanders of space websites while procrastinating his master’s thesis research. He could wager a bet that now he was more knowledgeable about dust devils than some Martian Studies majors he had once drunk under the table.

They were supposed to land in the only space port on the southern part of Mars during the hottest period of the Martian year. The tilt of the planet brought it the closest to the burning Sun, making the heat as potent as it could get.

Storms like that one could grow from simple dust devils to raging dust catastrophes the size of Russia. Or better yet – and Yuuri really, really didn’t want to think about it – they could grow and grow until they covered the entire planet. Global storms could wreak havoc for months.

If there was one thing Yuuri would love to avoid, it was an enormous, inescapable devil dust on a foreign planet. He had a dog to think of.

“Wait”, he said, this thought striking him like a meteor going off its course, “is it, like, a tiny baby dust devil? Or an apocalyptic one?”

Georgi’s grin faded from his face.

“The other kind,” he just said.

Yuuri knew that they were now hovering somewhere in hard vacuum, quite stable in the vast nothingness despite the tempestuous weather on Mars. But he felt as if they were falling.

He bolted to the bathroom, locking himself up in the cabin with unsteady hands, and panicked.

*

Hiroko found him in the bathroom, now fully awake and with concern painted on her face.

“Dad is keeping Mari occupied,” she told him conversationally, as if Yuuri had not locked himself in a stall and had not curled into the embryo pose on the closed toilet lid. “So she doesn’t scream at the poor space attendant.”

Yuuri didn’t reply, but Hiroko hadn’t raised two children while building up a hotel empire only to be surprised by the behaviour of her only son.

“It can be so scary out here, can’t it,” Hiroko continued. It was the same voice that used to tell Yuuri bedtime stories. “So vast. So huge. So open.”

Yuuri listened on to her voice.

“You can feel so very small, like a ladybug or a sparrow. But Yuuri – even a tiny being can feel so much love and so much strength. You’re not alone in this universe, darling. You’re made of stars, too.”

Yuuri was made of heartbeat and air that was too dry to breathe out, but slowly, slowly, like an orbiting planet, he turned to his mother.

“Let’s get out of here.” he said.

*

They finally made an emergency landing in the middle of a dust-covered space port after the spacecraft began to run out of fuel. Nothing would convince Yuuri that in the final last minutes the vehicle wasn’t powered solely by his mother’s indignant fuming.

“Outrageous”, Hiroko said. “Simply outrageous. Did you see that?”

“Yes, honey,” Toshiya replied. Yuuri watched as his father sent his mother a calming smile that he knew very well.  They wouldn’t have gotten Katsuki Enterprises going without Hiroko’s relentless drive, but it was Toshiya’s calming influence that ensured they were still in business.

“Chill, Mom,” Mari chimed in. She now looked entirely unbothered by the dust around them. Yuuri wished he could say the same. “File a complaint later. Have some fun now.”

“Fun,” Hiroko repeated. Her voice was as wooden as the tables in their original inn, back in Hasetsu. “In this  _ dust.  _ I’m – I’m going to collect this dust and ship it all the way back to Earth, and, and—and I’ll send it to Victor Nikiforov in an envelope so it dirties that fancy suit of his.”

“Mom,” Yuuri noticed, trying to keep his voice gentle. “I think a formal letter of complaint would be better.”

“Oh”, Hiroko said with the smile that a long time ago had been the reason why there remained only one onsen in Hasetsu. “You’re right, of course. It would be such a hassle to carry all this dust all the way home. Nikiforov’s not worth the effort. But a complaint – Yuuri, you have such a way with words. Will you file it for me?”

Yuuri didn’t know whether it was the fact that gravity on Mars worked differently, or maybe the universe was giving him a sign to go back into the spacecraft and flee to another galaxy, far away.

*

It took ten tense days on dust-damned Mars and a few more coffee-filled hours spent on phonecalls, emails and research to confirm what Yuuri had suspected from the start.

“There’s nothing to be done, Mom,” he mumbled to the blueish, three-dimensional holograph of his mother. “There are regulations about it in the European Union. Nothing to be done – no compensation from the space flight provider if inclement weather conditions are the reason of the delay.”

The holograph got very, very still. Yuuri hoped it was just a bad Internet connection.

“Ah”, Hiroko finally said. “Thank you, darling. Nevermind, then”.

The blueish silhouette disappeared. Yuuri stared after it, and then looked back at his legal notes. 

*

But that was then, the year of Yuuri’s graduation, back before Yuuri and Hiroko established Katsuki Enterprises’ subsidiary in the windy, faraway city of Gdynia so that they could take advantage of European laws. That was then; now, Yuuri was all the way in New York and his phone kept buzzing. Yuuri finally fished it out of his pocket, his fingers freezing in the cold, and winced at the screen whose light all but set his face ablaze.

It was makka-baby, of course.  He smiled despite himself – it was not a lot, what they had, just a constant stream of conversations on an outdated app. It wasn’t a lot, no. But it was something.

 

_ how are you doing? makka sends her regards! _

 

_ Sorry for the silence _

_ hi makka! _

_ I needed to get out for a sec _

_ I’m taking a walk now _

_ Music was so loud i swear they could hear it on Mars _

_ Mars, huh? must be awfu _

 

Yuuri sighed. If only he knew.

 

_ you wouldn’t believe me, hahah _

_ but anyway _

_ I wonder who’s staying next to me _

_ I wanna knock on their doors and congratulate them on having the worst taste in music in history _

Another shuttle flowed above his head. Unthinkingly, Yuuri looked up one more time. And there it was, a falling star, and Yuuri smiled.

_ I want to be less lonely. _

Maybe going out was not a mistake after all.

He wandered around New York for hours. It felt alien, as if Yuuri left the planet and not just the continent. He finally went back around three, cold and at peace with listening to awful songs in languages he didn’t know. 

Yet when he found himself back on his floor, instead of the rumbling cacophony of dissonant tones Yuuri heard only soft electronic ambience played down enough so that it didn’t hurt his eardrums. It was almost pleasant; Yuuri barely contained his disappointment at losing an opportunity to vent away online about his strange neighbour.

He opened the door and went inside to the darkness of his room. The ambient dulled bit, a pale shadow in Yuuri’s awareness, and he soon returned to the blue haze of his Tumblr app, a bit sheepishly noticing three unread messages from makka-baby.

 

_ hey _

_ are you okay? _

_ you disappeared _

 

_ Omg I’m sorry! I’m fine _

_ The music coming from my neighbour’s room was so loud that I took a walk to clear my head a bit _

_ I guess I needed to be by myself for a while _

 

_ okay!  <3 <3 <3  _

_ what music was it? _

_ Idk _

_ Something from the 1980s? I think _

_ In a language i don’t know, really loud and really grating on my nerves _

_ You’re lucky you didn’t hear it _

_ omg I had to listen to awful music too! a friend came to my rescue though _

 

_ Lmao _

_ That’s a good friend, I wouldn’t mind having one here too so he could save me from that cacophony _

_ Btw sometimes our lives are so alike that I wonder if you’re not a clever bot imitating everything i do _

 

Yuuri couldn’t help it, he smiled. Some of the tension left him, leaving only the quiet contentment. Talking with makka-baby was always more relaxing than anything else – Yuuri thought only Nikchan was better.

He stayed up later than he should have, but for once he thought he could face the conference even after three hours of sleep and a quick shot of espresso in the morning. 


	12. Chapter 12

One shot of espresso was not enough. Yuuri downed three in one go and only then did he feel alive again.

There were entirely too many people at the Fly Me To The Moon conference, as if the whole planet collectively had decided to move to as far from the Earth as possible. Yuuri, who would be feeling more self-conscious if it weren’t for the caffeine in his system, absent-mindedly tugged at his tie. He noticed that companies were more likely to travel in groups; he locked his eyes with the representative of Guang Ho Ji and Co., his mother’s major business rivals in China, who had brought to New York a whole, frankly intimidating, body of well-dressed executives.

Yuuri only brought Nikchan. Chris would accompany his husband, and as the conference was supposed to be dog-friendly, and Yuuri had decided to take advantage of it; now while other attendees were surrounded by their coworkers, Yuuri only had a handful of poodle to rely on. 

_ Remember, Yuuri, the more people come with you, the more seriously they will take you,  _ he heard his mother’s voice. Yuuri didn’t forget – yet his budget was lost on the lawyers’ salaries and major court cases they have not yet won, and Ketty Abelashvili, Yuuri’s Head of Accounting, had been looking as if she needed an extended holiday on either on Mars or on Majorca, though maybe judging by their field of specialty, the latter would be less maddening.

He swept his gaze around the spacious, well-lit lobby: all natural light and no sharp edges. The fluidity of architecture in the round room spoke even more of the organizers’ mindset than their invitation had – everything in this undertaking was going to flow, and they were here to deliver.

And of course, the smooth jazzy tones of  _ Fly Me to the Moon  _ played on repeat. The old fashioned song would be at odds with the modern, if not futuristic sleek design, but the clever play on the title made Yuuri smile.

He did appreciate a good pun.

Yuuri tried not to be overwhelmed by it all, the languid elegance of the architecture, the bespoke suits, the sheer number of people; instead he texted Hiroko that her rivals were there and did his best trying to look as intimidating as them. With a poodle in his arms, he suspected he might not look as threatening as he hoped.

_ Take a deep breath,  _ he told himself. It was gonna be fine.

His company may be called F.O.O.L., but the joke was never on Yuuri, and he was far from stupid; and if he took pride from anything, it was from running a company that was soon enough going to bring Nikiforov to his knees.

Obviously, Nikiforov was there, too.

He belonged right with the masses of well-dressed businesspeople, his perfectly tailored gray suit fitting his shoulders and damn, wasn’t it unfair that someone as vile was this breathtaking. He had a dog on a leash, too, although in the swarm of attendees Yuuri could not make out the breed.

Looking at him now, Yuuri had never felt so glad to have spoken with Emil; it would serve Nikiforov right, he thought. They just needed a little bit more time.

For now, he pointedly looked the other way, only to bump into Phichit.

He did not know the man well, despite Chris’s futile attempts to smuggle his husband permanently into F.O.O.L. Yuuri wouldn’t mind if it came to be. He didn’t know how the man could stand working for that git over there; obviously Yuuri was a better employer, something Phichit’s own husband could attest for.

“Shouldn’t you be with  _ him _ ?” he asked in lieu of their usual greeting.

“With  _ whom _ ?” Phichit asked, and silently asked for permission to pet Nikchan. “Oh, he’s around, waiting for his mothers to arrive. I’m just networking. With my husband’s boss. Who is also my boss’s sworn enemy. It’s but a coincidence.”

“This innocent air doesn’t suit you,” Yuuri said. Nikchan sniffed Phichit’s hand. “Where is Chris?”

“Around. Despairing. Cats are not allowed here, you know. Do you think I could borrow your dog for a quick emergency hugging session? He might need that.”

Yuuri took a long look at him and shrugged.

“Please accept my sincere apologies,” he just said. “And I think Nikchan is rather overwhelmed, so no, I’m sorry. And - I’m so sorry you have to sit with  _ him _ .”

He eyed Nikiforov, who was just chatting with – of course – Hiroko’s main competitors. He looked at ease in the well-lit lobby, all quick smiles and friendly handshakes. Yuuri gave him a double take but still did not spot his dog.

“You’re staring,” Phichit said.

“I’m assessing the situation,”  Yuuri replied, not tearing his gaze away from Nikiforov’s silver hair.

Nikiforov turned his head towards Yuuri, as if sensing his gaze. He stood so far away that they couldn’t lock their eyes; and yet Yuuri felt as though Nikiforov’s saw right through him, through Yuuri’s  pent-up anger, determination and all twenty-seven years of intense bisexuality.

“You’re seated next to him, too,” Phichit helpfully said.

*

It did nothing to help matters at all to discover that Nikiforov smelt like cedar wood and orange, the scent slowly overcoming Yuuri’s senses.

Neither did help the fact that Nikiforov’s dog, a poodle, looked extremely huggable and eerily similar to a dog that Yuuri was sure he must have seen before. The conference room was dimly lit, though, and as much as Yuuri was tempted to keep stealing glances as Nikiforov, he thought it would be awkward to be caught doing so. And so pointedly kept avoiding looking left, determined not to meet Nikiforov’s eye. The man may have welcomed Yuuri cheerfully, but Yuuri knew the type: he’d give you a smile first, and poison second. He’d already tried that with the mould in the basket, anyway. 

Yuuri did his best to remain still, only moving his hand so as to pet sleepy Nikchan. The proximity to Nikiforov was far from relaxing, and as much as he wanted to drum his fingers on his knee or jiggle his leg, Yuuri knew that it could be easily seen as a sign of weakness.

Victor Nikiforov, Yuuri was sure, was one to subtly enjoy power play. Perhaps Yuuri had been wrong to get along with it, back when he had moved to the twin skyscraper next to LearX, a skyscraper which was, of course, considerably higher.  

Needless to say, magnanimousness had never been Yuuri’s strong suit.  And this is where it led him: to New York, to the Fly Me To the Moon conference, to a room full of people who were going to launch regular customer flights to the moon, to a room which smelt like cedar wood and orange – because Victor Nikiforov smelt like that, too, and he was sat right next to Yuuri.

Yuuri stubbornly fixed his eyes on his phone; blasé as his pose was, he was acutely aware of Nikiforov’s casually nonchalant presence definitely too close to him. The man was talking to Phichit, and Yuuri thanked heavens that he was not paying attention to him, but the situation was becoming more and more uncomfortable.

He needed a distraction, and Tumblr was always there to provide one.

It was destiny, Yuuri was sure – for once, the app worked without problems. Soon he pulled up the chat and fired off a quick text to makka-baby.

 

_ Can you imagine anything worse than sitting next to your archenemy in a meeting? _

 

It wasn’t all, but Yuuri didn’t want to come across as too negative; Nikiforov’s mothers were in attendance as well, sitting just behind the man himself, whispering to themselves in those soft Slavic consonant Yuuri didn’t understand. Their presence rubbed Yuuri off the wrong way, a bitter reminder that he chose to come here alone, with Chris and Nikchan only, and he was still unsure whether they would be enough to represent both F.O.O.L. and Katsuki Enterprises properly. 

Yuuri hoped the other man would reply immediately, but no response came. He scrolled down his dashboard, reblogging a few pictures and feeling as if all of his optimism got sucked by the dark blue hell of the application. It didn’t help that  _ Fly Me to the Moon  _ was apparently the only soundtrack on the conference playlist. Even if Yuuri wanted to focus on the words of the organizer who was just welcoming everybody, he wouldn’t be able to do so.

Nikiforov, of course, was listening attentively, with a slight smile on his face, damn him. 

Next to Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov continued smelling like a dream and reminding Yuuri that the universe was rarely fair: no person with such a terrible personality should ever be this good-looking.

_ I don’t have to imagine,  _ he read makka-baby’s reply, hating the entire situation, hating himself and every word, and above all hating Nikiforov.

Why couldn’t the man be more like makka-baby? Life would be easier – or at least this conference would be easier. Yuuri’s friend was witty and kind, with a sense of humour that Yuuri found far too attractive to admit out loud. They had the kind of conversations Yuuri wouldn’t mind exchanging in front of a fireplace on winter evenings, while cuddling with their dogs and possibly with each other. Yuuri was sure that makka-baby, if he ever got to operate a space travel business, would never carelessly send customer into space without checking weather reports beforehand.

Yuuri was fully aware that had Nikiforov been a better businessman, F.O.O.L. would have never come to be; Yuuri would turn into another Katsuki Enterprises Executive, perhaps fullfiling the duties Mari had now been taking care of. He’d have never had the chance to test himself in a different company and in another capacity – but also, he wouldn’t have to sit next to Nikiforov now, quietly suffering and trying to appear not to.

He glanced at his phone – it was better than glancing at Nikiforov again, to be sure – but the app remained silent. Nothing.

Then, a bing. 

_ our lives are so similar sometimes, it’s so strange _

*

Victor pocketed his phone, determined not to let Katsuki distract him anymore, especially not with his mothers in attendance. They would tease him mercilessly.

It had taken Victor twenty seconds to find Katsuki when he arrived, and another twenty for Phichit to inform him of seating arrangement, and another twenty for Phichit’s errant husband, Chris, to confuse the hell out of Victor.

Victor did not enjoy being confused, and the least by someone else’s handsy husbands who kept whispering gossip about Katsuki into Victor’s ears like poison. It did not help matters that his mothers had declared Katsuki dazzlingly handsome on the spot, full of winks and giggles and Victor really needed a drink.

He lived through a moment of bliss when they entered the conference room and neither his mothers nor Chris sat next to him, but then he realized who exactly was going to be on his right.

Yuuri Katsuki was wearing the worst tie Victor has seen in his life, and he was smelling like something musky and forest-like and like something that brought to mind rainy Sunday mornings. 

And he had a dog on his lap, a toy poodle. The room was barely lit, and so Viktor did not see well enough and felt too awkward to gape, but the dog came across to him as a bit familiar. 

_ Whatever,  _ he thought. He was overthinking it.

Makka stole excited glances at the smaller poodle, and he had to calm her down. Katsuki did not look up from his phone; Victor finally fired a quick message to oodlesofpoodles, feeling out of place and very, very lonely. 

He wondered whether he should speak to Katsuki, to find some common ground. They both liked dogs and graduated from Columbia - it had to count, right? 

But just when he was about to ask, his phone buzzed, and Victor quickly wrote back, and when he sent the text, the conference began in earnest. He might talk to Katsuki later.

*

Two hours later, he still didn’t manage to talk to Katsuki.The man had disappeared in the crowd at the last sound of the coffee break announcement. 

Victor spent his own break idly socialising. He didn’t have the heart to network and left it to Phichit, who was sure to charm his way into everyone’s hearts and pockets alike. Victor simply made sure Makka was comfortable and decided to enjoy his cup of coffee in peace, trying to emit the aura of someone who does not wish to be interrupted. 

And then Makka ran. 

Victor couldn’t even grab the leash properly; the coffee cup fell to the floor with a clatter of white sharp porcelain pieces. Makka was strong, stronger than Victor’s grasp on the leash. He followed the dog helplessly, trying to stop the poodle from running away.

“Makka, no!” he shouted. He felt the people’s gazes on them and did not care. “Makka, stop it!”

Makka didn’t stop. Instead the poodle ran towards someone - someone’s dog? - and entangled two leashes in the process, pulling Victor towards the other dog’s owner. Before Victor knew it, before he finally managed to grab a proper hold of the leash and catch his breath, Makka finally paused, gave a friendly bark, and engaged in a friendly canine conversation with another poodle. 

“Makka, baby,” Viktor sighed. The dogs entangled their leashes so thoroughly that he could barely turn around to see the other person and their dog. “Look what you’ve done.”

“Did you - did you say Makka?”

“Yeah, I did,” Victor finally turned around, facing the other man - and it was Katsuki. 

Of course - it had to be. Victor hadn’t even expected anyone else. He took a deep breath, his eyes following the two playful dogs, before he managed to look into Katsuki’s deep brown eyes. “That’s my dog’s name.”

Katsuki still smelled nice, like a cozy afternoon, and Victor forced himself to untangle the leash and prayed he wouldn’t get even more distracted, hoping his mothers didn’t see him like this. It was unfair, he decided. Katsuki - Katsuki was simply unfair, all of him, with the eyes and the scent and the poodle, and that keen intelligence he’d glimpsed back in the courthouse.

The look Katsuki was giving him was unlike anything Victor had known from their interactions so far. He couldn’t read it at all and he found it almost intriguing. Makka gave another happy bark. Victor was just about to say something, anything, when Katsuki beat him to it.

“I know this might sound a bit strange,” he began, “but is there a chance you might be makka-baby on Tumblr?”


	13. Epilogue

Mr. Katsuki Yuuri and Mr. Victor Nikiforov

Joyfully request your presence at their

Wedding celebration

On the 17 th of February, 2052

at four o’clock in the afternoon, local time

in Katsuki Hotel, Sinus Amoris 12-22-16, the Moon

RSVP to either Yuuri or Victor at yeswerereallygettingmarried.tumblr.com

 

*

“What if he changes his mind? We started this relationship off the wrong foot. I – I was so rude to him, Mari, even meaner than I was in Grade 4 to that kid who said his mum made better katsudon. What if he says no?”

Mari merely rolled her eyes, a gesture so familiar that it almost put Yuuri at ease. He fiddled with his cufflinks anxiously, and she reached out, pulled his hands away, and began to fix his tie.

“Why did you decide to wear this monstrosity?” she asked. “I thought you agreed on matching suits.”

“It’s a running joke,” Yuuri explained. “Victor pretends he hates it.”

Mari hummed, running her fingers through the creases of the fabrics. Yuuri still needed to get ready, but she looked impeccable, with an elegant ease that he only associated with her and their mother. Even after years of working in law and wearing suits every day, Yuuri always felt that when he dressed up, he performed – he pretended he was someone else. Especially today, on his wedding day. Mari, though – she was always just Mari.

He didn’t tell her that the tie kept him grounded, ridiculous though it seemed– the one familiar thing in the whirlwind of fabrics and colours that still made him gape. Besides, he thought she already knew it.

“I still think you should go with a bow tie,” she said. “But you look great, Yuuri. And honestly? This man is so smitten with you, more than I thought it was possible. He’s not gonna change his mind. He’s gonna change his marital status and you’re gonna do it with him.”

*

“What if he changes his mind?” Victor fretted, looking at his reflection in the mirror. “I sent him flowers which nearly killed him!”

Yuri shook his head. 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he said. “He’s mildly allergic.”

He flopped on the couch in Victor’s hotel room, uncaring of wrinkling his suit. Victor locked his eyes with him in the mirror; Yuri made a rude face and turned away, sulking.

“Why are you like this?” he asked. “There’s not a single moment of peace with you. Just get married already.”

Victor fixed his bow tie, catching a glimpse of his meteor cufflinks in the mirror.

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” he turned to Yuri, spreading his arms. “But first I need to make sure that my bow ties will match Yuuri’s! So, what do you think? Do I look presentable? Am I handsome enough? Do you think--”

“Oh, shut up,” Yuri drawled. “You’re fine. You know he’s not gonna wear that stupid bow tie anyway, right?”

Victor couldn’t resist, he winked.

“Oh, I know well enough,” he said. “I’m counting on it.”

*

Hiroko had pushed for space imagery as soon as she heard about their engagement. Viktor’s mums were more than happy to go along with this idea, and soon Yuuri and Viktor’s apartment swarmed with old-fashioned paper catalogues (dreamy), early designs of space cakes (delicious), and star-embroidered napkins (works of art).

And of course, Hiroko’s burning enthusiasm didn’t wane now, on the big day, as she cheerfully oversaw all the last-minute preparations.

“I’m so proud of you,” she told Yuuri moments before they were supposed to leave for the ceremony, her brown eyes twinkling like the stars on her dress. “I never thought I’d visit Mars again – not after the last time, and not to see my boy getting married to Viktor Nikiforov.”

“Don’t let her fool you,” Toshiya chimed in. Even on the day of Yuuri’s wedding, even while they were all sitting in a futuristic hotel room in the outer space, he had the same quiet calm around him that reminded Yuuri of his childhood in Hasetsu. “She’s so happy for you – we both are”. 

*

“We’re so proud of you,” gushed Zosia Nikiforov, an antiquated analogue camera in her hands as she photographed Victor’s last moments as a bachelor before he was supposed to join Yuuri. She snapped a photo (“It’s going to be so  _ vintage,  _ darling, and just wonderful on our mantelpiece”), and watched with a fond, teary smile as her wife enveloped Victor in a hug, unmindful of wrinkling his impeccable suit. 

“You’ve come such a long way, both of you,” she told him. “Who would have thought! Not me, certainly, although we did have a silly bet going, you know, and Yura won it! That kid is going places.”

Victor rolled his eyes, hopeless. 

“Mamusia,” he said, “Did you really--?”

Zosia took a close-up of his face, laughing. “And this is going on my desk,” she decided. “And yes, we really did have a bet. And yes, Yura really won it.” She put a hand to his cheek, and he leant into it like when he was a little boy, when they all had been so busy chasing the stars. “It’s time for you to go now, darling.”

Victor nodded, closing his eyes for a flicker of a moment. He couldn’t believe it himself, the journey they had made - from vicious hatred through hesitant attraction to adventure-filled domesticity that had now brought her to the Moon. There was something poetic about starting their new life on a newly inhabited celestial body, out in the space. Victor was all for new beginnings.

He pecked his mothers on their cheeks and stepped out of the hotel room, ready to meet his groom.

*

Later, when he will try to recall their wedding ceremony in detail, Yuuri will only remember snippets. Victor will tease him about it - he will claim to have a vivid memory, much better than Yuuri’s hazy yet full of happiness images of bliss. 

But Yuuri will remember the most important things: how Victor’s eyes sparkled with unhidden laughter when he noticed Yuuri went through with the awful tie, how Yuuri felt weightless, giddy with joy when they sealed their marriage with a kiss, and how Victor kept grinning into it because he, too, couldn’t help but feel the unforgettable elation that overcame them both. Yuuri will never forget the most meaningful things, the ones which brought them so much joy: Makka and Nikchan in their dog suits, looking fancy and adorable and stealing the spotlight, for which no one could blame them; the carefree giggle of Victor’s mothers as they spun around together on the parquet; Mari, talking to their parents with a serene smile on her face; Chris and Phichit interrupting each other back and forth during their best man’s speeches, to the laughter of all the guests. 

But most of all, Yuuri will remember his wonder because it never left him, not really. And he was thankful for that. 

*

Later, when Victor will have had time to get used to the brilliance of Yuuri’s smile, he will tease him about the tie. 

“This is what I remember the most, Yuuri,” he’ll complain, a humorous lilt to his voice, “that terrible stripped pattern. And on our wedding day! You brought that tie, to the Moon, Yuuri, that’s a tragedy.”

What he will really mean is, “I want to remember everything, even the silliest detail, the way we made each other laugh and when you interrupted our first dance to hug the dogs, and how the dance was to  _ Fly Me to the Moon  _ because you’d insisted, and how the cake was space-themed - I want to remember it all, always.”

What Victor will not say - because he doesn’t have to, because they both already know - is that space travel is not the most incredible journey they have been on. Theirs has been far more amazing. 

*

It was Yuuri who had suggested they go on a trip to Mars for their honeymoon. 

For Victor, it was a continuation of their ongoing conversation about the tumultuous beginnings of their relationship, about the origins of F.O.O.L. and Yuuri’s first ill-fated space excursion, for which he no longer blamed Victor nowadays. 

“I like the irony of it all,” Yuuri had said when he proposed the destination, and Victor - helpless, smitten, charmed and disarmed by his smile - agreed. 

Yuuri surprised him with it, even though Victor thought it had been to be expected; Yuuri was fond of poetic justice and had initially struggled just as much as Victor to come to terms with the seemingly double lives they both led: as two lost penpals crushing on each other and as two bitter enemies crushing each other in court. It was confusing, thrilling, and unexpected, and if Yuuri wanted a trip to Mars to cap it all and to seek closure, then a trip to Mars it was. 

“You know,” Yuuri said then, extremely kissable in his space suit, a twinkle in his eye, “the last time I tried to enjoy my stay here on Mars, the planet got swarmed by dust devils.”

“I know,” Victor said, a grimace on his face, “You’ve told me.”

“So I decided to swarm you with paperwork instead,” Yuuri continued as if Victor hadn’t known, “a terrible, terrible move on my part.”

“And an exciting one,” Victor said. He had never felt as alive as when he saw Yuuri in court for the first time. “I think it must have been exciting for you, too. Even though you didn’t win.”

Yuuri accepted the jab with a smile. His posture was relaxed; he was fiddling with his phone, and everything about him indicated how much he enjoyed this casual teasing. He looked awfully fond of him, Victor realized - he was so incredibly lucky to call this man his husband. 

“It’s still exciting when I think about it,” Yuuri said. 

“It wouldn’t have mattered who won or who lost in the end,” Victor mused, watching as Yuuri kept typing on his phone. “I’m just happy we’re together.”

Yuuri sent him a brilliant smile that took Victor’s breath away. 

“I’m happy, too, Vitya,” he said. “Check your email, darling, will you? I sent you something interesting.”

Try as he might, Victor couldn’t interpret the expression on his face - playful but challenging, and perhaps even a bit determined. Victor hadn’t seen it since the last time they played that old-fashioned game of Mario Kart; and before that, he had only seen it in court. 

He fished out his phone and checked that, yes, Yuuri had in fact forwarded him a BBC article. He clicked on it - and it took just the headline to leave him speechless.

 

_ NEKOLA'S BILL PASSES THROUGH: AEROPLANE LAWS TO APPLY TO OUTER SPACE TRAVEL _

 

“It’s curious, isn’t it?” Yuuri said, his tone light, innocent, and somehow full of laughter. “But I’m sorry, I interrupted you - what you were saying?”

**Author's Note:**

> "What do we need to say?? In the author's note I mean."  
> —Cady/eternalsunshine13
> 
> "I'm awful at author's notes unless they involve prostates."  
> —Kaja/Skowronek
> 
> Special thanks to [Voxofthevoid](http://voxofthevoid.tumblr.com) who listened to us Complain when we were writing this and got stuck lmao. He's the real MVP. 
> 
> Kaja is [kaja-skowronek](http://kaja-skowronek.tumblr.com) on tumblr. Cady is [eternalsunshine13](http://eternalsunshine13.tumblr.com) on tumblr. Come hang out with us! <3


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